“Don’t say such things, mother,” said Philip, nervously, unpleasantly affected by the picture his mother had drawn. “I can’t help saying it, for it might have happened.” “Where are you going to first, mother?” asked Philip. “I will go first and call on Widow Gilbert. I consider her responsible, for if she had brought up the boy better this would never have happened.” “May I go with you?” “No; I would rather go alone.” If Philip had only been scarred, or had a wound to show, his mother would have taken him with her, to make her reproof more effective, but, as he showed no marks of the encounter, she saw no advantage in his presence. “You just give it to her, mother,” said Philip, in a tone of satisfaction. “I shall know what to say, my son.” “Just frighten her, and make her think we are going to have Harry arrested.” “I shall make her understand that the boy has done a very serious thing, and has made himself amenable to the law.” “That’s right, mother. Harry is too airy altogether. He seems to think that I am no better than he is—a common working boy like him!” Mrs. Ross sailed out of the room, and dressed herself with unusual care, not out of respect for Mrs. Gilbert, but rather with the purpose of impressing her with her grandeur. CHAPTER III — MRS. ROSS MAKES TWO UNSATISFACTORY VISITS It was very seldom that Mrs. Ross condescended to visit her poorer neighbors, and it was, therefore, not without considerable surprise that Mrs. Gilbert called to the door about eleven o’clock, just as she had put on the potatoes to boil for dinner—recognized in the visitor on the doorstep Mrs. Colonel Ross. “Pray come in, Mrs. Ross. I am glad to see you,” said the widow. “I will come in for five minutes,” said Mrs. Ross, carefully gathering up her skirts, lest they should be soiled as she entered the humble cottage. She need not have been alarmed, for there was not a cleaner house in the village. Mrs. Gilbert brought forward the most comfortable chair in her little sitting-room, and the visitor seated herself. “I am come on an unpleasant errand, Mrs. Gilbert,” she commenced, frigidly. “Unpleasant!” repeated the widow, with quick apprehension. “Has anything happened to my boy—to Harry?” Improbable as it seemed that in such an event Mrs. Ross should be the messenger of ill tidings, it occurred to Mrs. Gilbert that she had come to inform her of an accident to Harry. The visitor’s lips curled. What did it matter, she thought, whether anything happened to him or not? “Something has happened to my boy!” she said, with emphasis. “I am very sorry,” said the widow, with quick sympathy. “I hope he is not hurt.” “He might have had his neck broken,” said Mrs. Ross; “and by your son,” she added, spitefully. “They haven’t been fighting, have they?” asked Mrs. Gilbert, nervously.