‘Hush!’ whispered Charlotte; ‘there’s some one coming. It’s William!’
‘Oh, that’s all right,’ Caroline said amazingly. ‘William knows. He’s one of us. He’s wearing the Royal Rose too.’
‘And he isn’t going to tell?’ Charles could hardly believe it of a grown-up.
‘No, he ain’t a-going to tell’; it was William who answered, pushing through the leaves and sitting down squarely on a stump. ‘I don’t give away a good sport like what Miss Caroline is—not me.’
‘But when did you find out?’ Charlotte asked.
‘I had my suspicions from the first—Miss Caroline going off so artful. And then when she come back, of course I knew.’
‘Why “of course”?’ Charles wanted to know.
‘Well, nobody except the Pleece would cotton to it as a young lady like Miss Caroline would set out to give away a runaway dog as ’ad trusted her, let alone a young gentleman.’
Charlotte and Charles never wish to feel less pleased with themselves than they did then.