The days went on. We did have fun: but war was growing up between William Whitney and Tod. There could no longer be a mistake (to those who understood things and kept their eyes open) of the part Sophie Chalk was playing: and that was trying to throw Tod over for William Whitney, and to make no fuss about it, I don't believe she cared a brass button for either: but Bill's future position in life would be better than Tod's, seeing that his father was a baronet. Bill was going in for her favour; perhaps not seriously: it might have been for the fun of the moment, or to amuse himself by spiting Tod. Sir John and my lady never so much as dreamt of the by-playing going on before their faces, and I don't think Helen did. "I told you she'd fascinate the eyes out of your head, Bill, give her the chance," said I to him one day in the schoolroom, when Miss Chalk was teaching her pupils to dance. "You shut up, Johnny," he said, laughing, and shied the atlas at me. Before the day was out, there was a sharp, short quarrel. They were all coming for the evening to Miss Deveen's. I went in at dusk to tell them not to make it nine at night. Turning into the drawing-room, I interrupted a scene--Bill Whitney and Tod railing at one another. What the bone of contention was I never knew, for they seemed to have reached the end of it. "You did," said Tod. "I did not," said Bill. "I tell you, you _did_, William Whitney." "Let it go; it's word against word, and we shall never decide it. You are mistaken, Todhetley; but I am not going to ask your leave as to what I shall do, or what I shan't." "You have no right to say to Miss Chalk what I heard you saying to-day." "I tell you, you did not hear me say anything of the sort. Put it that you did--what business is it of yours? If I chose to go in for her, to ask her to be the future Lady Whitney--though it may be many a year, I hope, before I step into my father's place, good old man!--who has the right to say me nay?" Tod was foaming. Dusk though it was, I could see that. They took no more account of my being present, than of Harry's little barking dog. "Look here, Bill Whitney. If----" "Are you boys quarrelling?" The interruption was Anna's. Passing through the hall, she had heard the voices and looked in. As if glad of the excuse to get away, Bill Whitney followed her from the room. Tod went out and banged the hall-door after him. I waited, thinking Anna might come in, and strolled into the little drawing-room. There, quiet as a mouse, stood Sophie Chalk. She had been listening, for certain; and I hope it gratified her: her eyes sparkled a little. "Why, Johnny! was it _you_ making all that noise? What was the matter? Anything gone wrong?" It was all very fine to try it on with me. I just looked straight at her, and I think she saw as much. Saying something about going to search for Helen, she left the room. "What was the trouble, Johnny?" whispered Anna, stealing up to me.