“Yes, sir,” I said; and I walked away thinking what a fierce quick man he seemed, and not knowing then that he was one of the magistrates.
A minute later he called to me to go back, and as soon as I had reached him, with Philip by his side and Bunce before him, Philip stepped back and held up his fist at me menacingly.
He thought the movement was unobserved by his stepfather; but Sir Francis, who was an old Indian officer, noted the act, as he showed us directly after.
“Now, boy,” he said, “what’s your name?”
“Grant, Sir Francis.”
“Well, Grant, did this under-gardener call Master Philip a pauper?”
I told him exactly what had occurred, and Sir Francis turned sharply on his step-son.
“You were already self-condemned, Philip,” he said sternly. “I saw you threaten this boy with your fist. The way to win respect from those beneath you in station is to treat them with respect.”
“But, papa—”
“Hold your tongue, sir,” said Sir Francis sternly.