ry I was to eat supper with them that evening, my mother having
gone sleighing to visit the Murrays at Incledon, with whom she was to
pass the night. As we neared the door, tired and hungry, whom should
we see coming toward it from the other direction but Philip Winwood.
He had worked over the usual time at the warehouse. Before the girls
or I could exchange halloes with Phil, we were all startled to hear
Ned call out to him, in a tone even more imperious than the words:

"Here, you, come and take my skates, and carry them in, and tell
mother I've stopped at Jack Van Cortlandt's house a minute."

And he stood waiting for Phil to do his bidding. The rest of us
halted, also; while Phil stopped where he was, looking as if he could
not have heard aright.

"Come, are you deaf?" cried Ned, impatiently. "Do as you're bid, and
be quick about it."

Now, of course, there was nothing wrong in merely asking a comrade, as
one does ask a comrade such things, to carry in one's skates while one
stopped on the way. No one was ever readier than Phil to do such
little offices, or great ones either. Indeed, it is the American way
to do favours, even when not requested, and even to inferiors. I have
seen an American gentleman of wealth go in the most natural manner to
the assistance of his own servant in a task that seemed to overtax the
latter, and think nothing of it. But in the case I am relating; apart
from the fact that I, being nearer than Phil, was the proper one of
whom to ask the favour; the phrase and manner were those of a master
to a servant; a rough master and a stupid servant, moreover. And so
Philip, after a moment, merely laughed, and went on his way toward the
door.

At this Master Ned stepped forward with the spirit of chastisement in
his eyes, his skates held back as if he meant to strike Phil with
their sharp blades. But it happened that Philip had by now mounted the
first door-step, and thus stood higher than his would-be assailant. So
Master Ned stopped just out of Philip's reach, and said insolently:

"'Tis time you were taught your place, young fellow. You're one of my
father's servants, that's all; so take in my skates, or I'll show
you."

"You're wrong there," said Phil, with forced quietness. "A clerk or
messenger, in business, is not a personal servant."

"Take in these skates, or I'll brain you with 'em!" cried Ned, to
that.

"Come on and brain!" cried Phil.

"By G----d, I will that!" replied Ned, a