parish and glebe to attend, and Master
Philip Carvel likewise in my charge."

I held my breath for my grandfather's reply. The rector, however, had
read him, and well knew that a show of reluctance would but inflame him
the more.

"How now, sir?" he exclaimed. "Surely, as you love the King, you will
not refuse me in this strait."

Mr. Allen rose and grasped him by the hand.

"Nay, sir," said he, "and you put it thus, I cannot refuse you."

The thought of it was too much. I ran to my grandfather crying: "Not Mr.
Allen, sir, not Mr. Allen. Any one else you please,--Mr. Fairbrother
even."

The rector drew back haughtily. "It is clear, Mr. Carvel," he said,
"that Richard has other preferences."

"And be damned to them!" shouted my grandfather. "Am I to be ruled by
this headstrong boy? He has beat Mr. Fairbrother, and shall have no
skimmed-milk supervision if I can help it."

And so it was settled that I should be tutored by the rector of St.
Anne's, and I took my seat beside my cousin Philip in his study the very
next day.

CHAPTER VII

GRAFTON HAS HIS CHANCE

To add to my troubles my grandfather was shortly taken very ill with the
first severe sickness he had ever in his life endured. Dr. Leiden came
and went sometimes thrice daily, and for a week he bore a look so grave
as to frighten me. Dr. Evarts arrived by horse from Philadelphia, and
the two physicians held long conversations in the morning room, while I
listened at the door and comprehended not a word of their talk save when
they spoke of bleeding. And after a very few consultations, as is often
the way in their profession, they disagreed and quarrelled, and Dr.
Evarts packed himself back to Philadelphia in high dudgeon. Then Mr.
Carvel began to mend.

There were many who came regularly to inquire of him, and each afternoon
I would see the broad shoulders and genial face of Governor Sharpe in the
gateway, completing his walk by way of Marlboro' Street. I loved and
admired him, for he had been a soldier himself before he came out to us,
and had known and esteemed my father. His Excellency should surely have
been knighted for his services in the French war. Once he spied me at
the window and shook his cane pleasantly, and in he walks to the room
where I sat reading of the victories of Blenheim and Malplaquet, for
chronicles of this sort I delighted in.

"Aha, Richard," says he, taking up the book, "'tis plain whither your
tastes lead you. Marlb