e
was so sleepy, with cold air and exercise, that he did not paint well,
and then he got impatient, and threw it up--"till the morning."

In the morning he set to work, talking all the time about wild duck
and teal, and the price of guns; but by the time he had put last
night's blunders straight, the front door bell rang, and Mary
announced "Mr. Clinton."

Philip was closeted in his room with his new friend till twelve
o'clock. Then they went out into the yard, and finally Mr. Clinton
stayed to luncheon. But I held my peace, and made Alice hold hers. Mr.
Clinton went away in the afternoon, but Philip got the plate-powder
and wash-leather, and occupied himself in polishing the silver
fittings of his dressing-case.

"I think you might do that another time, Philip," said I; "you've not
been half-an-hour at the properties to-day, and you could clean your
bottles and things quite as well after the theatricals."

"As it happens I just couldn't," said Philip; "I've made a bargain,
and bargains won't wait."

Alice and I screamed in one breath, "You're _not_ going to give away
the dressing-case!"--for it had been my father's.

"I said a _bargain_" replied Philip, rubbing harder than ever; "you
can't get hold of a gun every day Without paying down hard cash."

"I hate Mr. Clinton!" said Alice.

It was a very unfortunate speech, for it declared open war; and when
this is done it cannot be undone. There is no taking back those sharp
sayings which the family curse hangs on the tips of our tongues.

Philip and Alice exchanged them pretty freely. Philip called us
selfish, inhospitable, and jealous. He said we grudged his enjoying
himself in the holidays, when he had been working like a slave for us
during the half. That we disliked his friend because he _was_ his
friend, and (not to omit the taunt of sex) that Clinton was too manly
a fellow to please girls, etc., etc. In self-defence Alice was much
more out-spoken about both Philip and Mr. Clinton than she had
probably intended to be. That Philip began things hotly, and that his
zeal cooled before they were accomplished--that his imperiousness laid
him open to flattery, and the necessity of playing first-fiddle
betrayed him into second-rate friendships, which were thrown after the
discarded hobbies--that Mr. Clinton was ill-bred, and with that
vulgarity of mind which would make him rather proud than ashamed of
getting the best of a bargain with his friend--these things were