He had been standing near the drawing-room door, and had caught the
sound of his brother's voice and Harold's as if in altercation. Excusing
himself from those around him, he hastened to the scene of action in
time to save Harold from a broken limb, if not a broken neck.
'What is it? What have you been doing?' he asked the boy, who replied,
amid his tears:
'I hain't been doing anything, only minding my business, and he came and
asked me who I was, and when I told him, he was going to chuck me over
the railing--darn him! I wish I was big; I'd lick him!'
Harold's cheeks were flushed, and the great tears glittered in his eyes,
as he stood up, brave and defiant, and resentful of the injustice done
him.
'Are you mad, Arthur?' Frank said.
And whether it was the tone of his voice, or the words he uttered,
something produced a wonderful effect upon his brother, whose mood
changed at once, and who advanced toward Harold with outstretched hand,
saying to him:
'Forgive me, my little man. I think I must have been mad for the
instant; there is such a heat in my head, and the crash of that music
almost drives me wild. Shall it be peace between us, my boy?'
It was next to impossible to resist the influence of Arthur Tracy's
smile, and Harold took the offered hand and said, between a sob and a
laugh:
'I don't know now why you wanted to throw me down stairs.
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