once, however, the white
belly of the shark flash on the surface of the blue water is sufficient.

"I beg of you not to jest of me before the lads, father," said Grafton.

"God knows there was little jest in what I said," replied Mr. Carvell
soberly, "and I care not who hears it. Your own son will one day know
you well enough, if he does not now. Do not imagine, because I am old,
that I am grown so foolish as to believe that a black sheep can become
white save by dye. And dye will never deceive such as me. And Philip,"
the shrewd old gentleman went on, turning to my cousin, "do not let thy
father or any other make thee believe there cannot be two sides to every
question. I recognize in your arguments that which smacks of his tongue,
despite what he says of your reading the public prints and of forming
your own opinions. And do not condemn the Whigs, many of whom are worthy
men and true, because they quarrel with what they deem an unjust method
of taxation."

Grafton had given many of the old servants cause to remember him. Harvey
in particular, who had come from England early in the century with my
grandfather, spoke with bitterness of him. On the subject of my uncle,
the old coachman's taciturnity gave way to torrents of reproach. "Beware
of him as has no use for horses, Master Richard," he would say; for this
trait in Grafton in Harvey's mind lay at the bottom of all others. At my
uncle's approach he would retire into his shell like an oyster, nor could
he be got to utter more than a monosyllable in his presence. Harvey's
face would twitch, and his fingers clench of themselves as he touched his
cap. And with my Aunt Caroline he was the same. He vouchsafed but a
curt reply to all her questions, nor did her raptures over the stud
soften him in the least. She would come tripping into the stable yard,
daintily holding up her skirts, and crying, "Oh, Harvey, I have heard so
much of Tanglefoot. I must see him before I go." Tanglefoot is led out
begrudgingly enough, and Aunt Caroline goes over his points, missing the
greater part of them, and remarking on the depth of chest, which is
nothing notable in Tanglefoot. Harvey winks slyly at me the while, and
never so much as offers a word of correction. "You must take Philip to
ride, Richard, my dear," says my aunt. "His father was never as fond of
it as I could have wished. I hold that every gentleman should ride to
hounds."

"Humph!" grunts Harvey, when she is gone to the h