"Come on and brain!" cried Phil.

"By G----d, I will that!" replied Ned, and made to swing the skates
around by the straps. But his arm was, at that instant, caught in a
powerful grip, and, turning about in surprise, he looked into the
hard, cold eyes of his father, who had come up unseen, having stayed;
at the warehouse even later than Phil.

"If any blows are struck here, you sha'n't be the one to strike them,
sir," he said to Ned. "What's this I hear, of servants? I'll teach you
once for all, young man, that in my house Philip is your equal. Go to
your room and think of that till it becomes fixed in your mind."

To go without supper, with such an appetite, on such a cold night, was
indeed a dreary end for such a day's sport. I, who knew how chilled
and starved Ned must be, really pitied him.

But instead of slinking off with a whimper, he for the first time in
his life showed signs of revolt.

"What if I don't choose to go to my room?" he answered, impudently, to
our utmost amazement. "You may prefer an outside upstart over your
son, if you like, but you can't always make your son a prisoner by the
ordering."

Mr. Faringfield showed little of the astonishment and paternal wrath
he doubtless felt. He gazed coldly at his defiant offspring a moment;
then took a step toward him. But Ned, with the agility of boyhood,
turned and ran, looking back as he went, and stopping only when he was
at a safe distance.