hose on me and gave me a rough scrubbing. Then he wrapped me in a
piece of a blanket and took me up-stairs to dry before the fire in his
room. Phil had gone to bed, and was lying there sobbing, with his head
under the pillows when we came in. He wouldn't talk at first, but
after awhile he told Stuart that his father had given him a hard
whipping for speaking so disrespectfully to an old lady like Miss
Patricia, and that he could not go to the table again until he had
asked her pardon. That Phil vowed he would not do so long as he lived.
He had made up his mind to run away in the morning. Nobody treated him
right, and he didn't intend to stand it any longer.

"But, Phil," said Stuart, "you know yourself, that it wasn't very nice
of Dago to go walking around the table through the butter and
applesauce, and all the things to eat. I don't wonder that Aunt
Patricia was provoked, 'specially when he has done so many other
things to tease her. She didn't hurt him much for all her whacking
around. I saw nearly as much of the fight as you did. She didn't hit
him more than one lime out of ten. I was perfectly willing that my
half of Dago should get what it deserved."

At that, Phil cried still harder. "Well, if you say that," he sobbed,
giving his pillow an angry thump, "then you don't love Dago as much as
I do. You're against him, too. Nobody cares anything for either of us,
and I'll take him and go off with him in the morning. I'm going as
soon as it is light."

But when the daylight came, Phil was not in such a hurry to go. He
still refused to ask his Aunt Patricia's pardon, so his breakfast was
sent up-stairs to him, and he ate in sulky silence. He waited until he
saw his father drive away down the street, and then he went in search