"Not particularly. He's a splendid athletic fellow--doing his best to make himself a blackguard, I'm afraid. I've come across him once or twice, as it happens. He's not a desirable cousin for Miss Fountain--that I can vouch for! And unluckily," he smiled, "Miss Fountain won't hear any good of this house at Browhead Farm." Even Augustina drew herself up proudly. "My dear Alan, what does it matter what that sort of people think?" He shook his head. "It's a queer business. They were mixed up with young Williams." Augustina started. "Mrs. Mason was a great friend of his mother, who died. They hate me like poison. However----" The priest interposed. "Mrs. Mason is a very violent, a most unseemly woman," he said, in his mincing voice. "And the father--the old man--who is now dead, was concerned in the rioting near the bridge----" "When Alan was struck? Mrs. Denton told me! How _abominable_!" Augustina raised her hands in mingled reprobation and distress. Helbeck looked annoyed. "That doesn't matter one brass farthing," he said, in some haste. "Father Bowles was much worse treated than I on that occasion. But you see the whole thing is unlucky--it makes it difficult to give Miss Fountain the hints one would like to give her." He threw himself down beside his sister, talking to her in low tones. Father Bowles took up the local paper. Presently Augustina broke out--with another wringing of the hands. "Don't put it on me, my dear Alan! I tell you--Laura has always done exactly what she liked since she was a baby." Mr. Helbeck rose. His face and air already expressed a certain haughtiness; and at his sister's words there was a very definite tightening of the shoulders. "I do not intend to have Hubert Mason hanging about the house," he said quietly, as he thrust his hands into his pockets. "Of course not!--but she wouldn't expect it," cried Augustina in dismay. "It's the keeping her away from them, that's the difficulty. She thinks so much of her cousins, Alan. They're her father's only relations. I know she'll want to be with them half her time!" "For love of them--or dislike of us? Oh! I dare say it will be all right," he added abruptly. "Father Bowles, shall I drive you half-way? The pony will be round directly." CHAPTER IV It was a Sunday morning--bright and windy. Miss Fountain was driving a shabby pony through the park of Bannisdale--driving with a haste and glee that sent the little cart spinning down the road. Six hours--she calculated--till she need see Bannisdale again. Her cousins would ask her to dinner and to tea. Augustina and Mr. Helbeck might have all their Sunday antics to themselves. There were several priests coming to luncheon--and a function in the chapel that afternoon. Laura flicked the pony sharply as she thought of it. Seven miles between her and it? Joy!