“Ma’am,” said Kenelm, “do not regret to have admitted me, and do not think hardly of me when I inform you that I am the unfortunate cause of your son’s accident.” Mrs. Bowles rose with a start. “You’re the man who beat my boy?” “No, ma’am, do not say I beat him. He is not beaten. He is so brave and so strong that he would easily have beaten me if I had not, by good luck, knocked him down before he had time to do so. Pray, ma’am, retain your seat and listen to me patiently for a few moments.” Mrs. Bowles, with an indignant heave of her Juno-like bosom, and with a superbly haughty expression of countenance which suited well with its aquiline formation, tacitly obeyed. “You will allow, ma’am,” recommenced Kenelm, “that this is not the first time by many that Mr. Bowles has come to blows with another man. Am I not right in that assumption?” “My son is of hasty temper,” replied Mrs. Bowles, reluctantly, “and people should not aggravate him.” “You grant the fact, then?” said Kenelm, imperturbably, but with a polite inclination of head. “Mr. Bowles has often been engaged in these encounters, and in all of them it is quite clear that he provoked the battle; for you must be aware that he is not the sort of man to whom any other would be disposed to give the first blow. Yet, after these little incidents had occurred, and Mr. Bowles had, say, half killed the person who aggravated him, you did not feel any resentment against that person, did you? Nay, if he had wanted nursing, you would have gone and nursed him.” “I don’t know as to nursing,” said Mrs. Bowles, beginning to lose her dignity of mien; “but certainly I should have been very sorry for him. And as for Tom,--though I say it who should not say,--he has no more malice than a baby: he’d go and make it up with any man, however badly he had beaten him.” “Just as I supposed; and if the man had sulked and would not make it up, Tom would have called him a bad fellow, and felt inclined to beat him again.” Mrs. Bowles’s face relaxed into a stately smile. “Well, then,” pursued Kenelm, “I do but humbly imitate Mr. Bowles, and I come to make it up and shake hands with him.” “No, sir,--no,” exclaimed Mrs. Bowles, though in a low voice, and turning pale. “Don’t think of it. ‘Tis not the blows; he’ll get over those fast enough: ‘tis his pride that’s hurt; and if he saw you there might be mischief. But you’re a stranger, and going away: do go soon; do keep out of his way; do!” And the mother clasped her hands. “Mrs. Bowles,” said Kenelm, with a change of voice and aspect,--a voice and aspect so earnest and impressive that they stilled and awed her,--“will you not help me to save your son from the dangers into which that hasty temper and that mischievous pride may at any moment hurry him? Does it never occur to you that these are the causes of terrible crime, bringing terrible punishment; and that against brute force, impelled by savage passions, society protects itself by the hulks and the gallows?”