She did not know herself to be unfair. Few people discover that defect in themselves, and she was great at self-deception. Seldom if ever did she admit, even in her innermost consciousness, that rank jealousy underlay her persistent condemnation of the younger, more attractive, and more lovable cousin. She honestly believed in Phyllys' unmitigated perversity. Things were hard for her. During more than thirty years she had had her own way, as the only grand-daughter at hand; had been exclusively necessary to the old lady, who to her had been mother, father, all in one. Then Phyllys, the only child of Mrs. Wyverne's beloved son, was also left an orphan, and she too was adopted by the large-hearted though narrow-minded old lady. At first Barbara had not realised what this would mean. Not till the charming wilful child of thirteen arrived, not till her winsomeness had been exerted over house and village, not till she had begun to reign supreme in the little world around, did jealousy spring in Barbara's heart. She failed to recognise the weed. Scarcely the whole of their little world; for Barbara's chosen friend, Miss Robins, held out from the first against the young princess of hearts, but she was almost the sole exception. Mrs. Wyverne did her best to discipline her darling, but the love which she poured upon Phyllys took precedence of all other affection. The forty years of Barbara's devotion became as nought beside one smile from Phyllys, one touch of her sweet lips, one glimpse of the thick black fringes which were so perfect a reproduction of her father's. How Mrs. Wyverne had loved that only son, mothers alone can know. He had been in some sort a sorrow to her. He had not thought with her on many points. He had disappointed her expectations. She had been wont to condemn him. But in spite of all, how she had loved him! No wonder her heart went forth to the child whose every look and gesture recalled the dead father. It all came about naturally, but it meant trouble for the cousin. So, being what she was, a good woman, but not in character noble or generous, Barbara took twisted views of the younger cousin's actions, constantly misjudging her. For instance—that Phyllys should not, at the present moment, have returned in time for the weekly meeting, got up by herself and Miss Robins, and good-humouredly tolerated by the Vicar, was a case of rank ill-doing. "You told her to be back, grandmother." "I really do not feel sure. Phyllys is aware of my wishes. I shall have to reprimand her." Mrs. Wyverne drew out a huge old pinchbeck watch, then hunted for a letter. "We shall be in time if we start in a few minutes." Being a trifle hard of hearing, she preferred the front row. "I had another letter from Mr. Dugdale this morning. He writes strongly on the duty of letting Phyllys become acquainted with Giles and his people."