Michael, the sole representative of this branch of the family, said
"Damn!" and kicked a footstool across the room into the grate.

Mr. Johnson was quite aware of the peculiarity of the family. Indeed, he
was not surprised when Alexander Armstrong remarked upon it presently.
Alexander Armstrong was the old retainer, who now enjoyed the position
of guide to the Castle upon the two days a week when tourists were
allowed to walk through the state rooms, and look at the splendid
carvings and armor and pictures, and the collection of plate.

Johnson had had time to glance over his master's correspondence that
morning, which, with characteristic recklessness, that gentleman had
left upon his bed while he went to his bath, so his servant knew the
cause of his bad temper, and had been prudent and kept a good deal out
of the way. But the news was so interesting, he felt Alexander Armstrong
really ought to share the thrill.

"Mrs. Hatfield's husband is dying," he announced, as Armstrong, very
diffidently, peeped through the window from the balcony, and then,
seeing no one but his friend the valet, entered the room.

Alexander Armstrong spoke in broad Scotch, but I shall not attempt to
transcribe this barbaric language; sufficient to tell you that he made
the excuse for his intrusion by saying that he had wanted to get some
order from the master about the tourists.

"We shan't have any tourists when she's installed here as mistress!" Mr.
Johnson remarked sepulchrally.

Armstrong was heard to murmur that he did not know what Mr. Johnson