The Prodigal Father

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.