outed, giving poor Hugo a cuff which sent him
stumbling over the stake. And turning to me; continued insolently:
"Ever since we came here I have marked your manner toward us, as though
my father had no right in my grandfather's house."
Then could I no longer contain myself. I heard young Harvey laugh, and
remark: "'Tis all up with Master Philip now." But Philip, whatever else
he may have been, was no coward, and had squared off to face me by the
time I had run the distance between the stakes. He was heavier than I,
though not so tall; and he parried my first blow and my second, and many
more; having lively work of it, however, for I hit him as often as I was
able. To speak truth, I had not looked for such resistance, and seeing
that I could not knock him down, out of hand, I grew more cool and began
to study what I was doing.
"Take off your macaroni coat," said I. "I have no wish to ruin your
clothes."
But he only jeered in return: "Take off thy wool-sack." And Hugo,
getting to his feet, cried out to me not to hurt Marse Philip, that he
had meant no harm. But this only enraged Philip the more, and he swore
a round oath at Hugo and another at me, and dealt a vicious blow at my
stomach, whereat Harvey called out to him to fight fair. He was more
skilful at the science of boxing than I, though I was the better fighter,
having, I am sorry to say, fought but too often before. And presently,
when I had closed one of his eyes, his skill went all to pieces, and he
made a mad rush at me. As he went by I struck him so hard that he fell
heavily and lay motionless.
Young Harvey ran into the spring-house and filled his hat as I bent over
my cousin. I unbuttoned his waistcoat and felt his heart, and rejoiced
to find it beating; we poured cold water over his face and wrists. By
then, Hugo, who was badly frightened, had told the news in the house, and
I saw my Aunt Caroline come running over the green as fast as her tight
stays would permit, crying out that I had killed her boy, her dear
Philip. And after her came my Uncle Grafton and my grandfather, with all
the servants who had been in hearing. I was near to crying myself at the
thought that I should grieve my grandfather. And my aunt, as she knelt
over Philip, pushed me away, and bade me not touch him. But my cousin
opened one of his eyes, and raised his hand to his head.
"Thank Heaven he is not killed!" exclaims Aunt Caroline, fervently.
"Thank God, indeed!" echoes my u
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