“You stop playing with that silly little saw,” Harlan said sharply, for he had begun to feel some irritation. “You come in the house right this instant.” “No; I can’t yet, Harlan. Sam and I got to——” “Never mind!” Harlan interrupted. “You come in the house and let this boy go home.” There was a frosty sharpness in his way of saying “let this boy go home” that caused Dan to stop his work again and stare at his brother challengingly. “Here!” he exclaimed. “This is as much my father and mother’s yard as it is yours, and you got no business hintin’ at any friend of mine to go home.” “Haven’t I?” Harlan inquired, adopting a light mockery. “So this is a friend of yours, is it?” “Yes, it is.” “Oh, a _friend_?” Harlan mocked. “Oh, _excuse_ me! I didn’t understand!” This proved to be intolerably provocative;—Dan abandoned the jig-saw and stepped out of the summer-house to confront his brother frowningly. “You shut up, Harlan Oliphant,” he said. “This is Sam Kohn’s and my factory, and he’s got a right here. You quit your talkin’ so much around here.” “You quit your own talking,” Harlan retorted. “You do what mother sent me to tell you to, and let that dirty little Jew go home!” “What?” Dan cried. “You better!” Harlan said, standing his ground, though Dan lifted his hand threateningly. “We don’t want any dirty little Jews on our premises.” Dan gulped. “It isn’t his fault he’s a Jew. You take that back!” “I won’t,” said Harlan. “He _is_ little and he _is_ dirty and he’s a Jew. How you going to deny it?” Flushed with anger and greatly perplexed, Dan glanced over his shoulder at Master Kohn, who looked on with an inscrutable expression. “Well, what if I can’t?” Dan said desperately, after this glance at his guest and partner. “You got no right to insult him.” “It isn’t an insult if it’s true, is it?” “Yes, it is; and you ought to be ashamed of yourself. I got a notion—I got a notion——” “What notion have you got?” Harlan asked scornfully, as his brother paused, swallowing heavily. “I got a notion to make you ashamed!” “How would you do it?” “‘How?’ I’ll show you how!” And again Dan’s clenched right hand lowered threateningly. The brothers stood eye to eye, and both faces were red. “Go on,” said Harlan. “Hit me!” Dan’s fist, like his expression, wavered for a moment, then he said: “Well, I wish you weren’t my brother; but you are, and I won’t hit you.” “I thought you wouldn’t,” Harlan retorted, turning toward the house. “I guess I’ll have to tell mother you won’t wash yourself and dress until she comes and sends this dirty little Jew out of our yard.” Thus, having discovered the tender spot in his opponent’s sensibilities, he avenged himself for the threat, and went on. His brother moved impulsively, as if to follow and punish, but Mrs. Oliphant had long ago impressed her sons heavily with the story of Cain and Abel, and he halted, while Harlan went on coolly and disappeared into the house by a side entrance.