p
the stairs together, and what occurred there I leave to the imagination.
But when next Philip was bidden to do an errand for Mr. Carvel my
grandfather said quietly: "I prefer that Richard should go, Caroline."
And though my aunt and uncle, much mortified, begged him to give Philip
another chance, he would never permit it.

Nevertheless, a great effort was made to restore Philip to his
grandfather's good graces. At breakfast one morning, after my aunt had
poured Mr. Carvel's tea and made her customary compliment to the blue and
gold breakfast china, my Uncle Grafton spoke up.

"Now that Dr. Hilliard is gone, father, what do you purpose concerning
Richard's schooling?"

"He shall go to King William's school in the autumn," Mr. Carvel replied.

"In the autumn!" cried my uncle. "I do not give Philip even the short
holiday of this visit. He has his Greek and his Virgil every day."

"And can repeat the best passages," my aunt chimes in. "Philip, my dear,
recite that one your father so delights in."

However unwilling Master Philip had been to disturb himself for errands,
he was nothing loth to show his knowledge, and recited glibly enough
several lines of his Virgil verbatim; thereby pleasing his fond parents
greatly and my grandfather not a little.

"I will add a crown to your savings, Philip," says his father.

"And here is a pistole to spend as you will," says Mr. Carvel, tossing
him the piece.

"Nay, father, I do not encourage the lad to be a spendthrift," says
Grafton, taking the pistole himself. "I will place this token of your
appreciation in his strong-box. You know we have a prodigal strain in
the family, sir." And my uncle looks at me significantly.

"Let it be as I say, Grafton," persists Mr. Carvel, who liked not to be
balked in any matter, and was not over-pleased at this reference to my
father. And he gave Philip forthwith another pistole, telling his father
to add the first to his saving if he would.

"And Richard must have his chance," says my Aunt Caroline, sweetly, as
she rises to leave the room.

"Ay, here is a crown for you, Richard," says my uncle, smiling. "Let us
hear your Latin, which should be purer than Philip's."

My grandfather glanced uneasily at me across the table; he saw clearly
the trick Grafton had played me, I think. But for once I was equal to my
uncle, and haply remembered a line Dr. Hilliard had expounded, which
fitted the present case marvellously well. With little cerem