“Why, no, Grandfather,” he replied soberly. “I didn’t start the fire. That is, I don’t think so.”
“You don’t seem to be very certain, Billy.”
“Did you roast weiners that morning?” interposed Dan.
“No-o,” the boy replied, thinking hard. “Oh, yes, I did, too. It was only a little fire though.”
“Little fires have a way of spreading into large ones if they are carelessly tended,” remarked Mr. Hatfield. “On that particular day a strong wind was blowing in the direction of the Castle.”
“Then you think I started that big fire?” Billy asked, his eyes wide and very blue.
“We’re afraid you may have done it unintentionally,” his grandfather replied. “Billy, I fear I have neglected you of late, not paying as much attention to your comings and goings as I should have done.”
Billy said nothing, but stirred uncomfortably. He took it for granted he was to be severely punished for having caused the fire.
“Now there are other questions to be asked,” his grandfather resumed. “You’re quite handy with a bow and arrow, I believe.”
“I should be,” the boy answered. “I learned in England. My father taught me.”