"No, Mrs. Brent, I do not confess it. The brutality you speak of was all
on the side of Jonas."

"No doubt," retorted Mrs. Brent, with sarcasm.

"It's the case of the wolf and the lamb over again."

"I don't think Jonas has represented the matter to you as it happened,"
said Phil. "Did he tell you that he flung a snow-ball at my head as hard
as a lump of ice?"

"He said he threw a little snow at you playfully and you sprang upon him
like a tiger."

"There's a little mistake in that," said Phil. "The snow-ball was hard
enough to stun me if it had hit me a little higher. I wouldn't be hit
like that again for ten dollars."

"That ain't so! Don't believe him, mother!" said Jonas from the sofa.

"And what did you do?" demanded Mrs. Brent with a frown.

"I laid him down on the snow and washed his face with soft snow."

"You might have given him his death of cold," said Mrs. Brent, with
evident hostility. "I am not sure but the poor boy will have pneumonia
now, in consequence of your brutal treatment."

"And you have nothing to say as to his attack upon me?" said Phil
indignantly.