Barbara spoke tartly. "I suppose by 'his people' you mean the Keiths. He and they are alike—people without religion. Bent upon nothing but pleasure. No doubt they go in for ceremonial observance, but as for anything deeper—If Phyllys gets among them she will be utterly spoilt." Barbara, accustomed to have the upper hand in these questions, saw with amazement a look of indecision. "It is out of the question," she added roughly. "There is no knowing what might come of it." "I must do what is for the child's interests. Perhaps I have realised too keenly the other side of the question. She is twenty-three. I cannot always refuse to allow other relatives to see her. Giles Randolph has no one nearer to him than Phyllys." "Than us, you mean?" "Yes. But circumstances are different. If Giles should die unmarried, Phyllys would inherit the property." "You would inherit it, grandmother." "I should hold it in trust for Phyllys. Nothing would induce me to leave Midfell." "Giles is a healthy man. Nothing less likely than his death." "The healthiest are often the first taken." Since Mr. Timkins had unctuously enlarged on this truth at the last meeting, Barbara was at a loss what to say. "I must admit," the old lady continued, "that what Mr. Dugdale says, both in this and in his last letter, has tended to open my eyes to the fact that another side exists." She spoke with old-fashioned precision. "He is urgent about what her father would have desired." "You are more likely to understand that than Mr. Dugdale." Mrs. Wyverne was silent. In her heart she knew that she had not acted as her son would have wished. "Besides, Phyllys has no notion about the property. Of course you do not mean to tell her." Barbara's frown grew more forbidding. "There is no need to tell her at present." "If she goes to Castle Hill, she will learn it. You ought to prevent that visit at all costs." But Mrs. Wyverne did not bow to this decision. A long-dormant sense of family obligation had been stirred in her; yet more, a sense of how her son would have acted. While much under the control of her elder grand-daughter, she could assert her will when once convinced that such assertion was right. Duty held a paramount position in her life, though her views of duty might be lop-sided; and the strongest longing of her heart was to do the best that could be for Phyllys. "Grannie," a musical voice broke in. "Here is Giles Randolph. He has come to see us."