He smiled into her eyes; his stern face softened wonderfully when he smiled. "I couldn't think of permitting it," she pouted, eyeing him with a new interest. He sat back on his heels, and affected a resigned attitude. "Let's argue the point for two hours," he said. "I can't go fishing, because I shall be trespassing until I have acquired some rights. Moreover, nothing short of violence will stop me from escorting you over the moor. In this weather, moors contain tramps." "I know. I met two yesterday." "Did they speak to you?" "One did. I didn't mind him. The second one turned and looked. I was ready to run, but he only stared." "May I ask what costume you intend wearing for to-day's outing?" "I haven't quite decided. It may be a blue Shantung or a white pique, but it won't be gray flannel, if that's what you're hinting at." He rose, and felt in his pockets. "I think we can get through those two hours comfortably. May I smoke?" he said. "Yes, please do. Then you won't be so grumpy. Walk twenty-eight miles on my account! The idea!" "I've walked forty before to-day, and stood a very reasonable chance of being potted every inch of the way. You won't fire at me, at any rate, so twenty-eight is a mere stroll. In fact, if you are gracious, it can be a pleasant one, too." "Potted! Were you in the army?" "No. Soldiers like that sort of thing! I didn't so I gave it up. Sure you don't mind a pipe?" "I love it. I often fill and light dad's for him when he's busy. You ought to see him when he's tracking some Norse legend to its lair, or clearing up a point left doubtful by Frazer in the _Golden Bough_. Have you ever read Frazer? I know him and Mannhardt almost by heart. I help dad a lot in my own little way. Have you ever played cat's cradle?" "With a piece of string?" "Yes. Well, games and folk-lore go together, and cat's cradle has been played since the ancient Britons wore--whatever ancient Britons did wear. Now, you're laughing at me." "Indeed, I'm not. I was marveling at our kindred tastes. Have you heard of the Jatakas and Panchatantras of India?" "I know that there are such things." "I'll jot down two or three, with a translation." "Oh, wouldn't dad love to meet you! He often growls because he can't read Sanskrit." "Tell me where you live, and I'll look you up some day." "Our permanent address is----Oh, my! Somebody's coming, and I don't want you to be cross with me again." She fled into the kitchen. The door had hardly closed when a shadow darkened the porch. Armathwaite, lighting his pipe, gazed through a cloud of smoke at a red-faced policeman. "Hello!" he said. "Who have _you_ come for?" The policeman grinned, and saluted. "There's not much doing in Elmdale in my line, sir," he said. "I was told the Grange had a new tenant, so I just looked in. I come this way Thursday mornings and Monday nights, as a rule. I'm stationed at Bellerby, nearly three miles from here. Last time I was in this hall----"