The servants laughed.
“I might well have known what information I would get of you,” said he, regretfully.
“How can you speak in such a style to your father, my dear lady?” said Duncan. “If I were he I would place you where you should learn better manners. It ill becomes so pretty a young lady to address an old father thus.”
“He!” said she, “who minds him? He’s a dotard, an old whining, complaining, superannuated being, worse than a child.”
“But consider his years,” said Duncan; “and, besides, he may have met with crosses and losses sufficient to sour the temper of a younger man. You should at all events pity and reverence, but never despise, your father.”
The old lady now joined them.
“You have yet heard nothing, young man,” said the old laird; “if you saw how my heart is sometimes wrung. Yes, I have had losses indeed.”
“You losses!” said his spouse; “no; you have never had any losses that did not in the end turn out a vast profit.”
“Do you then account the loss of a loving wife and a son nothing?” said he.
“But have you not got a loving wife and a daughter in their room?” returned she. “The one will not waste your fortune as a prodigal son would have done, and the other will take care of both you and that, when you can no longer do either. The loss of your son, indeed! It was the greatest blessing you could have received!”