"Well," said Adrienne impulsively, "why should you not go instead of me? Will you? She only wants a bright young companion. I will tell her that I can send a substitute. She will welcome you. Will you do it?" Phemie laughed, but there was bitterness in her laugh. "My dear Adrienne, if the King himself wrote and offered me a position in Buckingham Palace, do you think I could go? Would the upheaval of a mountain move me a hair's-breadth out of my rut?" "Don't be a rotter!" said her brother, turning upon her. "You speak as if you are a slave. You are of age. You could leave us to-morrow if you chose, and you know you could. If you choose to stay here, don't grouse!" "Do I grouse?" "No, I'll own you don't, unless Adrienne comes along." "Then I'd better stay away," said Adrienne with her pretty laugh. "Oh, Phemie, you're a dear, and much too good and valuable to waste your life on a capricious old lady like Aunt Cecily. You're the light and sunshine of your home, you know you are. What would Dick do without you!" Then they all laughed together, and the slight storm blew over. The opening of the front door suddenly startled them. The next moment Mrs. Moray made her appearance. She was a tall good-looking woman with rather a weather-beaten face, and very dark eyes which dominated and held her auditors when she spoke. She was dressed in rough tweed coat and skirt and a plain grey felt hat. "How do you do, Adrienne?" she said briskly, nodding to her as she deposited some parcels on a side-table. "Dick, do you know that it's past milking-time, and Andrew won't be back from Lufton till six as I told you." Dick was at the door in a moment. "I was just going. Good-bye, Adrienne. My respects and sympathy to your invalid." Adrienne rose from her seat, and took her departure. Phemie was already being sent here, there, and everywhere. There was always a stir and a bustle when Mrs. Moray made her appearance, and though her daughter implored her to sit down and have a cup of tea, there seemed endless small things to do first. Adrienne's feeling, as she escaped, was thankfulness that she did not live in the same house as Mrs. Moray. She went to the stables and found her horse tied outside and ready for her. Dick appeared from the cow-sheds and helped her to mount. "I always feel an idle drone when I see how you and Phemie work," she said; "do you never get fed up with it?" Dick laughed. "We have our discontented days, Phemie and I, but I love the land. Always have. The very smell of the earth is a tonic to me!" "Yes, I understand that. When I go to town, the air has no life in it. Good-bye, Dick, and thank you." She rode away. For one moment Dick's eyes rested on her light graceful figure in the saddle; then, with a short sigh, he went back to his milking. CHAPTER III GODFREY SPEAKS