“And Richard must have his chance,” says my Aunt Caroline, sweetly, as she rises to leave the room.

“Ay, here is a crown for you, Richard,” says my uncle, smiling.  “Let us hear your Latin, which should be purer than Philip’s.”

My grandfather glanced uneasily at me across the table; he saw clearly the trick Grafton had played me, I think.  But for once I was equal to my uncle, and haply remembered a line Dr. Hilliard had expounded, which fitted the present case marvellously well.  With little ceremony I tossed back the crown, and slowly repeated those words used to warn the Trojans against accepting the Grecian horse: 

        “Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes.”

“Egad,” cried Mr. Carvel, slapping his knee, “the lad bath beaten you on your own ground, Grafton.”  And he laughed as my grandfather only could laugh, until the dishes rattled on the table.  But my uncle thought it no matter for jesting.

Philip was also well versed in politics for a lad of his age, and could discuss glibly the right of Parliament to tax the colonies.  He denounced the seditious doings in Annapolis and Boston Town with an air of easy familiarity, for Philip had the memory of a parrot, and ’twas easy to perceive whence his knowledge sprang.  But when my fine master spoke disparagingly of the tradesmen as at the bottom of the trouble, my grandfather’s patience came to an end.

“And what think you lies beneath the wealth and power of England, Philip?” he asked.

“Her nobility, sir, and the riches she draws from her colonies,” retorts Master Philip, readily enough.

“Not so,” Mr. Carvel said gravely.  “She owes her greatness to her merchants, or tradesmen, as you choose to call them.  And commerce must be at the backbone of every great nation.  Tradesmen!” exclaimed my grandfather.  “Where would any of us be were it not for trade?  We sell our tobacco and our wheat, and get money in return.  And your father makes a deal here and a deal there, and so gets rich in spite of his pittance.”

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.