ier than Patty during the first few days of his stay.
After that he grew sulky and vented his spleen on poor Tom, winning more
money from him at billiards and picquet. Since the doctor was too much
the macaroni to ride to hounds and to shoot ducks, time began to hang
exceeding heavy on his hands.

Patty and I had many a quiet laugh over his predicament. And, to add
zest to the situation, I informed Singleton of what was going forward.
He came over every night for supper, and to my delight the bluff
Englishman was received in a fashion to make the doctor writhe and snort
with mortification. Never in his life had he been so insignificant a
person. And he, whose conversation was so sought after in the gay season
in town, was thrown for companionship upon a scarce-grown boy whose talk
was about as salted, and whose intellect as great, as those of the
cockerouse in our fable. He stood it about a se'nnight, at the end of
which space Philip was put on his horse, will-he-nill-he, and made to
ride northward.

I sat with my cousin of an evening as he lay in bed. Not, I own, from
any charity on my part, but from other motives which do me no credit.
The first night he confessed his sins, and they edified me not a little.
On the second he was well enough to sit up and swear, and to vow that
Miss Swain was an angel; that he would marry her the very next week and
his father Grafton were not such a stickler for family.

"Curse him," says his dutiful and loyal son, "he is so bally stingy with
my stipend that I am in debt to half the province. And I say it myself,
Richard, he has been a blackguard to you, tho' I allow him some little
excuse. You were faring better now, my dear cousin, and you had not
given him every reason to hate you. For I have heard him declare more
than once 'pon my soul, I have--that he would rather you were his friend
than his enemy."

My contempt for Philip kept me silent here. I might quarrel with
Grafton, who had sense enough to feel pain at a well deserved thrust.
Philip had not the intelligence to recognize insult from compliment. It
was but natural he should mistake my attitude now. He leaned forward in
his bed.

"Hark you, Richard," whispers he, with a glance at the door, "I might
tell you some things and I chose, and--and it were worth my while."

"Worth your while?" I repeated vaguely.

He traced nervously the figures on the counterpane. Next came a rush of
anger to redden his face.

"By Gad, I w