“The lord, who was getting very old, was much grieved on account of his son’s behaviour. ‘He’ll spend everything when I am gone, and the estates will go into other hands,’ the old man said to himself.”
“One fine morning in summer the factor received orders to build a hut by the sea, and plant bushes and trees round about it. ‘But don’t make the door to fit close; leave the space of a foot at the bottom, so the leaves can blow in, for I want the hut to shoot sea-fowl as they flight, and it is cold standing on the bare ground,’ said the old man.
“The factor carried out his master’s instructions, but not without suspicion of ulterior motives on his master’s part. However, when he saw my lord shooting the birds and stuffing many of them his suspicions were allayed, and the factor thought that, after all, though his master wanted the hut for flight-shooting, still he must be getting softening of the brain, for it was very eccentric that he should take up this new hobby in his old age.
“So the old lord was never disturbed in his hut by curious and ill-timed visits.
“After a time the lord died, and was laid with his fathers, the prodigal inheriting the property.
“The old castle was then the scene of perpetual feastings and card parties, so that in a few years the property was heavily mortgaged, the old factor advancing the money.
“Things went apace, until one day the factor informed the young spendthrift that he had spent everything, and the estates were no longer his, so he gave him a few pounds, and turned him out.
“When the news spread round the countryside his old friends began to drop off, until at last the spendthrift found every door closed against him.
“When he had spent his last penny, the prodigal thought of the key which his father had given him, saying, ‘When you have spent everything, take this key, and go to the hut.’