The tinkle of a bell aroused her. She was often thus recalled. But already! She did not realise how long she had stood there. Was the whole of this lovely day to be wasted indoors? She walked back with a lagging step. Within doors the cloud on her face vanished. Barbara was not visible; the grandmother wore a smile; and Giles stood waiting. "Put on your stout boots, child, and have a wrap. Your cousin wishes to take you for a walk." The black fringes widened with delight. "He does not know his way about, and Barbara is too busy," explained Mrs. Wyverne, apologising to herself. She felt uneasy, but, the managing grand-daughter being out of reach, her resolution had not been proof against his will. After all, the two were cousins; and since she had just granted her consent to three weeks at Castle Hill, a walk now could make little difference. The decision seemed lifted out of her hands; and despite her bewilderment, she looked with gratified eyes upon the great-nephew whom she had so long refused to see. "Must I be back at eleven, Grannie?" "Not to-day, for once. Giles wishes to go to the head of the dale, if you can walk so far." "Oh, of course I can. That will be splendid. I have not been there for ages upon ages." "My dear, you should not make use of such exaggerated expressions." Phyllys tried to wear a penitent face as she fled. "If Barbara should come in!" was the fear. Barbara might upset all. "Phyllys is a dear child, but too impulsive," the old lady remarked. "It is desirable that she should be trained in habits of self-restraint." Giles refrained from saying what he thought. Fortunately Barbara failed to appear, and the two set off at a brisk rate. Phyllys was a quick walker, and she easily kept up with the pace adopted by Giles. She was in a state of jubilant but veiled exultation. While lacing her boots, she had resolved to behave with dignity; not to allow her friendship to be regarded by him as a thing to be lightly won. But miles of happiness lay before her, miles of fresh air, of freedom, exercise, pleasant companionship. No need to dwell on what might lie beyond. No need to anticipate Barbara's comments. When the time came for their acidity, she would have had her day of delights; and none could rob her of the memory. Phyllys, as in duty bound, talked to interest her companion, perhaps more from inclination than from duty; and she found in him an excellent listener. She named for his information the various fells; those near at hand, then more distant outlines, as they mounted higher. She described the long cold winters and the deep snowdrifts. She chatted of the sturdy self-respecting farmers, and of the welcome she had from them and theirs. "None of the people about are very poor," she remarked. "They work hard and live carefully and lay by. That is the way in these northern villages. People say how different it is in the south." "When you come to Castle Hill, you will see for yourself."