"In both," fearlessly answered William. "I wonder who it is that carries these tales to old Carr! We did not meet a soul, that I remember; he must have spies at work." The remark rather offended Mr. Arkell. "William," he gravely asked, "do you consider it fitting that Robert Carr should marry that girl?" William's eyes opened rather wide at the remark. "He is not likely to do that, sir; he would not make a simpleton of himself." "Then you consider that he should choose the other alternative, and turn rogue?" rejoined Mr. Arkell, indignation in his suppressed tone. "William, had anyone told me this of you, I would not have believed it." William Arkell's sensitive cheek flushed red. "Sir, you are entirely mistaking me; I am sure you are mistaking the affair itself. I believe that the girl is as honest and good a girl as ever lived; and Robert Carr knows she is." "Then what is it that he proposes to himself in frequenting her society? If he has no end at all in view, why does he do it?" "I don't think he _has_ any end in view. There is really nothing in it--as I believe; we all form acquaintances and drop them. Marmaduke Carr need not put himself in a fever." "We form acquaintances in our own sphere of life, mind you, young sir; they are the safer ones. I wonder some of the ladies don't give a hint to the two Miss Hughes's to take better care of their sister--she's but a young thing. At any rate, William, do not you mix yourself up in it." "I have not done it, indeed, sir. As to my walking through the fields with them, when we met, as I tell you, accidentally, I could not help myself, friendly as I am with Robert Carr. There was no harm in it; I should do it again to-morrow under the circumstances; and if old Carr speaks to me, I shall tell him so." The carriage came up, and no more was said. Philip had halted to do something to the harness. Mrs. Arkell came out. She was tall, and for her age rather an elegant woman. Her face must once have been delicately beautiful: it was easy to be seen whence William had inherited his refined features; but she was simple in manner as a child. "What have you been doing, William? Papa was speaking crossly to you, was he not?" She sometimes used the old fond word to him, "papa." She looked fondly at her son, and spoke in a joking manner. In truth, William gave them little cause to be "cross" with him; he was a good son, in every sense of the term. "Something a little short of high treason," replied William, laughing, as he helped her in; "Papa can tell you, if he likes." Mr. Arkell took the reins, Philip got up behind, and they drove out of the yard. William Arkell went indoors, put down a roll of music he had been carrying, and then left the house again.