This confirmed Prudence's suspicion. She smiled at him encouragingly. "Oh! I expect I'll understand," she said kindly. "It's nice of you to tell me, anyhow." He was taken aback, and he showed it. He had never known Prudence so amenable before; her attitude discountenanced him slightly. "I am glad you take so sensible a tone," he returned; "it makes my task easier. I do not wish to find fault; your conduct is indiscreet rather than blameworthy. You ought to realise that it is not seemly for a young girl in your position to tear about the country as you do. I am not sure that in a factory town it is altogether safe. In any case it gets you talked about. It distresses your sisters; it distresses me. It lays you open to misapprehension. Why should you wander about the roads alone?" "Oh! Is that all?" Prudence's smile had changed in quality; kindliness made way for irony. "How do you know I do wander alone?" William reddened angrily. "I should be sorry to insult you by supposing the contrary," he replied with restrained annoyance. "No one in this house credits you with being other than thoughtless. Your behaviour shows a great want of consideration for your family." "It wasn't until to-day that I realised you were all so devoted to me," Prudence returned with suspicious meekness. "I have yet to get accustomed to that idea. So much family affection is embarrassing." "If you are going to adopt that outrageous tone," William observed with a resumption of dignity, "I have nothing further to say." "Don't worry about that," Prudence reassured him. "You haven't left much unsaid. You have filled my mind with a lot of new ideas that make it feel like a rubbish heap. If the roads are not safe for a girl to walk along, it is time some one saw to it that they were made so. As for being talked about, no one with a decent mind would make matter for talk where there was none. Are you quite sure, William, that your own mind doesn't need a little tidying up? Your workpeople at least are your responsibility. If you have any dubious characters among them, turn them away--as you turned away Bessie Clapp." William's face was crimson. He rose and stood looking down at her with the look of a man who feels himself deeply insulted. "You forget yourself," he said. "How dare you mention that woman's name to me?" "I have held that woman's child in my arms to-day," she answered quietly. "I think perhaps that gives me the courage." He bent swiftly and caught her by the shoulder. "So that's how you spend your time?" he said, staring into her steady eyes. He emitted an ugly laugh and pushed her roughly from him. "A decent-minded girl would shrink from such contact." She smiled coldly. "It is only the decent mind that does not fear these things," she answered, and turned away from the look in his eyes, which was not good to see.