A QUARREL—BOBBY IS WILLING—EXIT PHILIP.  
Philip came back by an evening train, and when he had had something to eat he came up to the nursery to go on with the scene. We had got everything ready for him, and he worked for about half-an-hour. But he was so sleepy, with cold air and exercise, that he did not paint well, and then he got impatient, and threw it up—"till the morning."
 
In the morning he set to work, talking all the time about wild duck and teal, and the price of guns; but by the time he had put last night's blunders straight, the front door bell rang, and Mary announced "Mr. Clinton."
 
Philip was closeted in his room with his new friend till twelve o'clock. Then they went out into the yard, and finally Mr. Clinton stayed to luncheon. But I held my peace, and made Alice hold hers. Mr. Clinton went away in the afternoon, but Philip got [195]the plate-powder and wash-leather, and occupied himself in polishing the silver fittings of his dressing-case.
 
"I think you might do that another time, Philip," said I; "you've not been half-an-hour at the properties to-day, and you could clean your bottles and things quite as well after the theatricals."
 
"As it happens I just couldn't," said Philip; "I've made a bargain, and bargains won't wait."
 
Alice and I screamed in one breath, "You're not going to give away the dressing-case!"—for it had been my father's.
 
"I said a bargain" replied Philip, rubbing harder than ever; "you can't get hold of a gun every day without paying down hard cash."
 
"I hate Mr. Clinton!" said Alice.
 
It was a very unfortunate speech, for it declared open war; and when this is done it cannot be undone. There is no taking back those sharp sayings which the family curse hangs on the tips of our tongues.
 
Philip and Alice exchanged them pretty freely. Philip called us selfish, inhospitable, and jealous. He said we grudged his enjoying himself in the holidays, when he had been working like a slave for us during the half. That we disliked his friend because he was his friend, and (not to omit the taunt of sex) that Clinton was too manly a fellow to please girls, etc., [196]etc. In self-defence Alice was much more out-spoken about both Philip and Mr. Clinton than she had probably intended to be. That Philip began things hotly, and that his zeal cooled before they were accomplished—that his imperiousness laid him open to flattery, and the necessity of playing first-fiddle betrayed him into second-rate friendships, which were thrown after the discarded hobbies—that Mr. Clinton was ill-bred, and with that vulgarity of mind which would make him rather proud than ashamed of getting the best of a bargain with his friend—these things were not the less taunts because they were true.
 
If the violent scenes which occur in ill-tempered families felt half as undignified and miserable as they look, surely they would be less common! I believe Philip and Alice would have come to blows if I had not joined with him to expel her from the room. I was not happy about it, for my sympathy was on her side of the quarrel, but she had been the one to declare war, and I could not control Philip. In short, it is often not easy to keep the peace and be just too, as I should like to have said to Aunt Isobel, if she had been at home. But she was to be away until the 6th.
 
Alice defeated, I took Philip seriously to task. Not about his friend—the subject was too sore, and Alice had told him all that we thought, and rather [197]more than we thought on that score—but about the theatricals. I said if he really was tired of the business we would throw it up, and let our friends know that the proposed entertainment had fallen through, but that if he wanted it to go forward he must decide what help he would give, and then abide by his promise.
 
We came to terms. If I would let him have a day or two's fun with his gun, Philip promised to "spurt," as he called it, at the end. I told him we would be content if he would join in a "thorough rehearsal," the afternoon before, and devote himself to the business on the day of the performance.
 
"Real business, you know," I added, "with nobody but ourselves. Nobody coming in to interrupt."
 
"Of course," said Philip; "but I'll do more than that, Isobel. There's the scene—"
 
"We'll finish the scene," said I, "if you don't aggravate Alice so that I lose her help as well as yours."
 
Alice was very sulky, which I could hardly wonder at, and I worked alone, exce............