The boxes, too, permitted of no waste of breath. When the third was dumped in the hall Bland was gasping, and Armathwaite's rather sallow face wore a heightened color. "That was a stiff haul for your horse. How much?" said the owner of these solid trunks. "It's eight miles----" began Bland. Despite a fixed tariff he could not forego an opportunity for bargaining, and Yorkshire will never give a direct answer if it can be avoided. "Sixteen, really," broke in Armathwaite. "Will sixteen shillings meet the case?" But Bland drew the line at downright extortion. "Nay, nay!" he said. "I had a few calls on the way, an' there's some empties to go back from the Fox and Hounds. Take off the six, sir, an' I'll be very content." Armathwaite paid him and added a florin "for a drink." As it happened, Betty Jackson crossed the hall, and nodded a greeting. This was fortunate. The girl's presence lent a needed touch of domesticity. "Ye'll hae gotten Betty an' her mother to do for you?" commented the carrier. "Yes. I was lucky to find them available." "Ay, they're all right. They'll mak' ye comfortable. They will, an' all. I've known Mrs. Jackson these fot-ty year. Good mornin', sir. If you want owt frae Nuttonby just tell the postman. I come this way Tuesdays, Thursdays an' Saturdays." With the departure of the carrier Armathwaite fancied that the irksomeness of life would lessen. The "cousin" of recent adoption had evidently withdrawn to the farther part of the dining-room, because Bland, despite many attempts, had not set eyes on her again. She, of course, was aware when he mounted into the cart and rumbled out of sight around the corner of the cottage. She came out. Armathwaite was unstrapping the boxes. One was already open, revealing books in layers. "Sorry I'm such a nuisance," she said quietly. "Of course, it was thoughtless of me to nod to Tom Bland, but he took me by surprise. Naturally, you don't wish people to know I am in Elmdale. Will you confer one last favor? Take your rods and pannier, and go for a couple of hours' fishing. I shall scoot before you return. I'll select the few things I require, and Betty will pack them, and hand them over to Bland on Saturday." He was on his knees and looked up at her. "By 'scooting' do you mean that you are going to walk across that moor again?" he demanded. "Yes." "If that is the only possible way of escape, I'll go with you." "Walk twenty-eight miles? Ridiculous!" "You're not going alone." "I am." This with a little stamp of one of the brown brogues, mighty fetching. "I shall not force my company on you, if that is what you fear." "But how absurd! Do you intend following me?" "Yes--until you are within easy range of the railway." "Mr. Armathwaite, I'm perfectly well able to take care of myself." "I'm sure of it, Meg. But a cousin should be cousinly. Our relationship will not be close. Say, a distance of two hundred yards."