emptuously. "She hasn't
the spirit. I'm afraid there ain't many sisters like Mullaney's. Poor
Fan wouldn't even listen--"

"Did you dare propose it to her?" said Phil. My own feelings were too
strong for speech.

"Dare!" repeated Ned. "Why not? 'Twould have made her fortune--"

"Upon my word," put in Mr. Cornelius, no longer able to contain his
opinions, "I never heard of such rascality!"

Something in the pedagogue's tone, I suppose, or in Ned's stage of
tipsiness at the moment, gave the speech an inflammatory effect. Ned
stared a moment at the speaker, in amazement. Then he said, with
aroused insolence:

"What's this, Mr. Parson? What have _you_ to say here? My sister is
_my_ sister, let me tell you--"

"If she knew you as well as I do now," retorted Cornelius, quietly,
"she wouldn't boast of the relationship."

"What the devil!" cried Ned, in an elevated voice, thus drawing the
attention of the four or five other people in the room. "Who is this,
talks of relationships? You cursed parson-pedagogue--!"

"Be quiet, Ned," warned Philip. "Everybody hears you."

"I don't care," replied Ned, rising, and again addressing Cornelius.
"Does anybody boast of relationships to you, you tow-headed bumpkin?
Do you think you can call me to account, as you can the scum you
preach to on the wharves? I'll teach you!"

Whereat, Cornelius being opposite him, Ned violently pushed forward
the table so as to carry the tutor over backward in his chair. His
head and back struck the floor heavily, and he lay supine beneath the
upset table.

An excited crowd instantly surrounded our group. Philip and I
immediately removed the table, and helped Cornelius to his feet. The
pedagogue's face was afire; his fists were clenched; his chest
swelled; and one could judge from his wrists what sturdy arms his
sleeves encased. As he advanced upon Ned, he was all at once become so
formidable a figure that no one thought to interpose. Ned himself,
appalled at the approaching embodiment of anger and strength,
retreated a foot or two from the expected blow. Everybody looked to
see him stretched flat in a moment; when Cornelius suddenly stopped,
relaxed his muscles, unclosed his fists, and said to his insulter, in
a quiet but virile voice quite different from that of his usual
speech:

"By the grace of God, I put my hands behind my back; for I've spoiled
handsomer faces than yours, Edward Faringfield!"

There was a moment's pause.

"The grace