"Who _is_ she, Arthur?" "She is Mrs. Cumberland's ward." "What do you know of her?" "I know her as being at Mrs. Cumberland's. I see her when I go there." Was he really indifferent? Standing there brushing away at his hair lazily, his apparently supreme indifference could not be exceeded. Madam scanned his face in momentary silence; _he_ was closely intent upon two sparrows, fighting over a reddening cherry on the branch of a tree. "Fight away, young gentlemen; battle it out; you'll have all the better appetite for supper." "Will you attend to me for a short time, Captain Bohun?" spoke madam, irritably. "Certainly; I am attending," was the captain's ready answer. Just for an instant madam paused. This was not one of the daily petty grievances that she made people miserable over, but a trouble to her of awful meaning, almost as of life or death. In this, her own grave interests, she could control her temper, and she thought it might be the better policy to do so whilst she dealt with it. "Arthur, you know that you are becoming more valuable to me," she said, with calmness; and Arthur Bohun opened his surprised ears at the words and tone. "Since Sidney took up his abode away from England, and cannot come back to it, poor fellow, for the present you are all I have here. If I speak, it is for your welfare." "Very good of you, I am sure," returned Arthur, seeing she waited for him to say something, and feeling how two-faced the words were, mother of his though she was. "What is it you wish to say?" "It's about that girl, Miss--what do you call her?--Adair. Young men will be young men; soldiers especially; I know that; but wrong is wrong, and it cannot by the most ingenious sophistry be converted into right. It is quite wrong to play with these village girls, as you seem to be doing with Miss Adair." Arthur threw back his head as though his pride were hurt. Madam had seen just the same movement in his father. "I have no intention of _playing_ with Miss Adair." A gleam shot from her eyes--half fear, half defiance. She bit her lip, and went on in a still softer tone. "You cannot mean anything _worse_, Arthur." "I do not understand you, madam. Worse? Worse than what?" "Anything serious. To play with village girls is reprehensible; but----" "I beg your pardon, mother; this is quite unnecessary. The playing with village girls--whatever that may mean--is not a habit of mine, and never has been. The caution might be more appropriate if applied to your men-servants than it is to me." "Allow me to finish, Arthur. To play with village girls is reprehensible; but to intend anything serious with one would be far more so in your case. Will you profit by the caution?" "If you wish me to comprehend the word 'serious,' you must speak out. What does it mean?"