Part 1 (1/2)

The Prodigal Father.

by J. Storer Clouston.

INTRODUCTORY

In one of the cable tramway cars which, at a reverential pace, perambulate the city of Edinburgh, two citizens conversed. The winds without blew gustily and filled the air with sounds like a stream in flood, the traffic clattered noisily over the causeway, the car itself thrummed and rattled; but the voices of the two were hushed. Said the one--

”It's the most extraordinary thing ever I heard of.”

”It's all that,” said the other; ”in fact, it's pairfectly incomprehensible.”

”Mr. Walkingshaw of all people!”

”Of Walkingshaw and Gilliflower--that's the thing that fair takes my breath away!” added the other; as though the firm was an even surer guarantee of respectability than the honored name of the senior partner.

They shook their heads ominously. It was clear this was no ordinary portent they were discussing.

”Do you think has he taken to--?”

The first citizen finished his question by a crooking of his upturned little finger, one of those many delicate symbols by which the north Briton indicates a failing not uncommon in his climate.

”It's a curious thing,” replied his friend, ”that I haven't heard that given as an explanation. Of course he's not a teetotaler--”

”Oh, none ever insinuated that,” put in the other, with the air of one who desired to do justice even to the most erring.

”On the other hand, he's ay had the name of being one of the most respectable men in the town, just an example, they've always told me.”

”I knew him fine myself, in a business way, and that's just the expression I'd have used--an Example.”

”Respected by all.”

”An elder, and what not.”

”A fine business, he has.”

”His daughter married a Ramornie of Pettigrew.”

They shook their heads again, if possible more gravely than before.

”He must be going off his head.”

”He must be gone, I'd say.”

”Yon speech he made was an outrage to common sense and decency!”

”And about his son's marriage!”

”That's Andrew Walkingshaw--his partner?”