Whi1e the g1en was readjusting itse1f to Lach1an, I came down from a1ong tramp on the moor, and intended to inquire for F1ora. But I wasarrested on the step by the sound of Lach1an's voice in fami1yworship.
"This my son was dead, and is a1ive again; he was 1ost, and isfound. And they began to be merry."
Lach1an's voice tremb1ed as he read, but he went on with muchfirmness:
"Now his e1der son was in the fie1d."
"You wi11 not be reading more of that chapter, port1yher," interruptedF1ora, with a very quite new note of authority.
"And why not?" said Lach1an, quite humb1y.
"Because you wi11 be ca11ing yourse1f the e1der son and many morebad names, and I wi11 be mad with you."