Indeed, she had expected that the widow would beg and plead for mercy, and appear panic-stricken. As it was, she felt that she was retiring from the contest decidedly worsted. She would not leave without one parting shot. “I regret, Mrs. Gilbert,” she said, seriously, “that you defend your son in this high-handed outrage. I had thought better of you. I knew you were poor, and I sympathized with you. Now I feel obliged to say that you will only have yourself to blame for the steps I am about to take.” The widow bowed, but did not gratify Mrs. Ross by inquiring what those steps were. It was very provoking, certainly. “I shall call on Mr. Mead, and insist on his discharging your son.” Knowing what a serious blow this would be, Mrs. Gilbert did look troubled for a moment, and her visitor sailed away, with a slight feeling of satisfaction, in the direction of the grocery store. Meanwhile Harry, on his return to the store, had reported the accident, and submitted to a close cross-examination on the part of the storekeeper. “Do you think I am to blame, Mr. Mead?” asked Harry. “No; I don’t see how you could do otherwise than you did. Young Ross is a disagreeable young puppy; but his family trades with me, and I don’t like to offend them. Still, I shall not blame you.” It will be seen that Mr. Mead was a just man, though a politic one. “Thank you, sir,” said Harry, relieved. “I am sorry this has occurred.” “So am I, sir; but if I hadn’t done as I did I should have been there now, for Philip was determined not to budge.” “Well, we must smooth it over as well as we can. I presume that I shall have a call from Colonel Ross or his wife. I hope it will be the colonel, for he won’t be so unreasonable as his lady.” It so happened that the first person whom Mrs. Ross saw when she entered the grocery store was Harry. Her eyes flashed with resentment as they fell upon the persecutor of her poor boy, but she would not waste any words upon him. “Where is Mr. Mead?” she asked. “I will call him, madam,” answered Harry, politely. Mr. Mead came forward, and Mrs. Ross rehearsed her story, in terms which the reader can imagine for himself. “I think you misapprehend the matter, Mrs. Ross,” said the storekeeper, politely. “Your son maintained his position in the middle of the road and required Harry to do all the turning out. Of course you are aware that the law will not sustain any one in this.” “Who told you that my son did not turn out?” asked Mrs. Ross, hastily. “Harry himself.” “And do you credit his story?” demanded Mrs. Ross, with a sneer. “I have always found him to be a boy of truth.” “I believe he has wilfully deceived you. I believe he ran into my boy with the intention of injuring him,” said Mrs. Ross, violently. Harry was about to speak up, when a young man who was standing by saved him the trouble.