And this is how the Chippendale piece was broke, which you, my children, and especially Bess, admire so extravagantly.  It stood that day behind the doctor, and my uncle, making a violent move to get by, struck it, and so it fell with a great crash lengthwise on the landing; and the wonderful vases Mr. Carroll had given my grandfather rolled down the stairs and lay crushed at the bottom.  Withal he had spoken so quietly, Dr. Leiden possessed a temper drawn from his Teutonic ancestors.  With his little face all puckered, he swore so roundly at my uncle in some lingo he had got from his father,—­High German or Low German,—­I know not what, that Grafton and his wife were glad enough to pick their way amongst the broken bits of glass and china, to the hall again.  Dr. Leiden shook his fist at their retreating persons, saying that the Sabbath was no day to do murder.

I followed them with the pretence of picking up what was left of the ornaments.  What between anger against the doctor and Mrs. Willis, and fright and chagrin at the fall of the Chippendale piece, my aunt was in such a state of nervous flurry that she bade the ashy Scipio call her chairmen, and vowed, in a trembling voice, she would never again enter a house where that low-bred German was to be found.  But my Uncle Grafton was of a different nature.  He deemed defeat but a postponement of the object he wished to gain, and settled himself in the library with a copy of “Miller on the Distinction of Ranks in Society.”  He appeared at supper suave as ever, gravely concerned as to his father’s health, which formed the chief topic between us.  He gave me to understand that he would take the green room until the old gentleman was past danger.  Not a word, mind you, of Dr. Leiden, nor did my uncle express a wish to go into the sick-room, from which even I was forbid.  Nay, the next morning he met the doctor in the hall and conversed with him at some length over the case as though nothing had occurred between them.

While my Uncle Grafton was in the house I had opportunity of marking the intimacy which existed between him and the rector of St. Anne’s.  The latter swung each evening the muffled knocker, and was ushered on tiptoe across the polished floor to the library where my uncle sat in state.  It was often after supper before the rector left, and coming in upon them once I found wine between them and empty decanters on the board, and they fell silent as I passed the doorway.

Our dear friend Captain Clapsaddle was away when my grandfather fell sick, having been North for three months or more on some business known to few.  ’Twas generally supposed he went to Massachusetts to confer with the patriots of that colony.  Hearing the news as he rode into town, he came booted and spurred to Marlboro’ Street before going to his lodgings.  I ran out to meet him, and he threw his arms about me on the street so that those who were passing smiled, for all knew the captain.  And Harvey, who always came to take the captain’s horse, swore that he was glad to see a friend of the family once again.  I told the captain very freely of my doings, and showed him the clipping from the Gazette, which made him laugh heartily.  But a shade came upon his face when I rehearsed the scene we had with my uncle and Mr. Allen in the garden.