This had been the fact once, and Philip was glad of the recollection; it was like an inspiration to enable him to excuse his crying. He had to accept eau-de-Cologne and to refuse creosote in consequence; but that was easy. Meanwhile Tom, who had for the first time sent a poisoned arrow into Philip’s heart, had returned to the carriage-house, where he found Mr Poulter, with a fixed and earnest eye, wasting the perfections of his sword-exercise on probably observant but inappreciative rats. But Mr Poulter was a host in himself; that is to say, he admired himself more than a whole army of spectators could have admired him. He took no notice of Tom’s return, being too entirely absorbed in the cut and thrust,—the solemn one, two, three, four; and Tom, not without a slight feeling of alarm at Mr Poulter’s fixed eye and hungry-looking sword, which seemed impatient for something else to cut besides the air, admired the performance from as great a distance as possible. It was not until Mr Poulter paused and wiped the perspiration from his forehead, that Tom felt the full charm of the sword-exercise, and wished it to be repeated. “Mr Poulter,” said Tom, when the sword was being finally sheathed, “I wish you’d lend me your sword a little while to keep.” “No no, young gentleman,” said Mr Poulter, shaking his head decidedly; “you might do yourself some mischief with it.” “No, I’m sure I wouldn’t; I’m sure I’d take care and not hurt myself. I shouldn’t take it out of the sheath much, but I could ground arms with it, and all that.” “No, no, it won’t do, I tell you; it won’t do,” said Mr Poulter, preparing to depart. “What ’ud Mr Stelling say to me?” “Oh, I say, do, Mr Poulter! I’d give you my five-shilling piece if you’d let me keep the sword a week. Look here!” said Tom, reaching out the attractively large round of silver. The young dog calculated the effect as well as if he had been a philosopher. “Well,” said Mr Poulter, with still deeper gravity, “you must keep it out of sight, you know.” “Oh yes, I’ll keep it under the bed,” said Tom, eagerly, “or else at the bottom of my large box.” “And let me see, now, whether you can draw it out of the sheath without hurting yourself.” That process having been gone through more than once, Mr Poulter felt that he had acted with scrupulous conscientiousness, and said, “Well, now, Master Tulliver, if I take the crown-piece, it is to make sure as you’ll do no mischief with the sword.” “Oh no, indeed, Mr Poulter,” said Tom, delightedly handing him the crown-piece, and grasping the sword, which, he thought, might have been lighter with advantage. “But if Mr Stelling catches you carrying it in?” said Mr Poulter, pocketing the crown-piece provisionally while he raised this new doubt.