She had not the slightest cause for worry. A girl may know when she looks attractive to other girls; but she seldom realises she is most fascinating to a man when her boots are muddy and her hair is all anyhow. There came a rabbit-like scamper up the trackway, and the stampeding Teenie screamed again: "Oh, I say--you did make me jump! Sidney! Sidney, you ass! Here she is! Here's Miss Blisland! Oh, what a lark!" shouted the child with shameless and barbaric jubilation. "Don't talk such beastly nonsense," cried the other voice. "It is her!" screamed the child. "Yes, it's me," said Nellie faintly; and all three stood together, in an atmosphere of amazement and bad grammar. "I thought, as it was such a lovely night--I mean evening--I would stroll in this direction to tell you I'm off again first thing in the morning," explained Nellie. "This is splendid! I was just going to start for Highfield, but this is far better, as there's no old Drake to waddle about and quack. I was hanging about the road all the afternoon. This is Teenie Stanley--my cheeky young sister." "Your sister! And your name isn't Brock at all!" cried Nellie. "Run away, kid, and talk to grandfather," Sidney ordered; and the little whirlwind whisked round Nellie and departed. "I did have the idea, but thought somehow it wasn't possible," Nellie was saying. "You have humbugged everybody, but you never really deceived me; if you had, I shouldn't be here now. I saw through your Dartmoor dialect, and all the rest of it. And I suppose Dorothy is your elder sister?" "Of course she is." "And the much-abused Mrs. Stanley--" "Is my mother who, in spite of local rumour, does not put on local colour." "Why ever didn't you tell me before? What was the sense of making such a mystery of it?" "The people in Highfield made the mystery. We didn't want them to know we were here." "Couldn't they see you, stupid?" said Nellie, more cheerfully. "I mean grandfather didn't want them to know who we are; but I should have let out everything that evening--when you were spiteful--if we hadn't quarrelled. You know, Nellie, you were rather too cross about mother, and--and I lost my temper because you wouldn't trust me, and I made up my mind you should." "You are nearly as bad as George Drake," she declared. "Nearly isn't quite." "And who are you, please?" "Oh, we are not of vast importance. My full name is Arthur Sidney Stanley. It was a shame to give me such names, as I can't possibly put my initials on anything. That little beast, Teenie, always calls me ass. We're not exactly paupers, as we own a big share in a number of stores all over the south. There's one at Drivelford." "I've been in it hundreds of times, and distinctly remember seeing you behind the counter." "Don't be horrid. I've never been to Drivelford in my life, but I'm going there tomorrow if you are." "Who is Mr. Brock?" she asked in a great hurry.