My Uncle Grafton raised his hand to protest, but Mr. Carvel continued: “I know you, Grafton, I know you. When a lad it was your habit to lay aside the money I gave you, and so pretend you had none.” “And 'twas well I learned then to be careful,” said my uncle, losing for the instant his control, “for you loved the spend-thrift best, and I should be but a beggar now without my wisdom.” “I loved not John's carelessness with money, but other qualities in him which you lacked,” answered Mr. Carvel. Grafton shot a swift glance at me; and so much of malice and of hatred was conveyed in that look that with a sense of prophecy I shuddered to think that some day I should have to cope with such craft. For he detested me threefold, and combined the hate he bore my dead father and mother with the ill-will he bore me for standing in his way and Philip's with my grandfather's property. But so deftly could he hide his feelings that he was smiling again instantly. To see 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.”