Mr. Arkell spoke again at breakfast of this expedition of Robert Carr's. It wore to him a curious sound--first, that Robert could not have gone by the coach, which left Westerbury about the same hour, and had to pass through Purford on its way to London; and, secondly, why the matter of borrowing the carriage need have been kept from him. William could not enlighten him on either point, and the subject dropped. Breakfast was over, and Mr. Arkell had gone into the manufactory, when the carriage came back. Philip drove at once to the stables, and William went out. "Well," said he, "so you are back!" "Yes, sir." Philip began to unharness the horse as he spoke, and did not look up. William, who knew the man and his ways well, thought there was something behind to tell. "You have driven the horse fast, Philip." "Mr. Carr did, sir; it was he who drove. I never sat in front at all after we got to the three-cornered field. He drove fast, to get on pretty far before the coach came up." "What coach?" asked William. "The London coach, sir. He's gone to London in it." "What! did he take it at Purford?" "We didn't go to Purford at all, Mr. William. He ain't gone alone, neither." "Philip, what do you mean?" "Miss Hughes--the young one--is gone with him." "No!" exclaimed William. "It was this way, sir," began the man, disposing himself to relate the narrative consecutively. "I had got the carriage ready and waiting by a few minutes after eight, as he ordered me; but it was close upon half-past before he came, and we started. 'I'll drive, Philip,' says he; so I got in beside him. Just after we had cleared the houses, he pulls up before the three-cornered field, saying he was waiting for a friend, and I saw the little Miss Hughes come scuttering across it--it's a short cut from their house, you know, Mr. William--with a bit of a brown-paper parcel in her hand. 'You'll sit behind, Philip,' he says; and before I'd got over my astonishment, we was bowling along--she in front with him, and me behind. Just on this side Purford he pulled up again, and waited--it was in that hollow of the road near the duck-pond--and in two minutes up came the London coach. It came gently up to us, stopping by degrees; it was expecting him--as I could hear by the guard's talk, a saying he hoped he'd not waited long--and they got into it, and I suppose he's gone to London. Mr. William, I don't think the master will like this?"