The name sounded far from inappropriate, yet he was conscious of revolt, as he inquired, "Who is Mr. Hazel?" "Our Vicar. Such a kind man. But I know why he calls me so. It was one day—" "Yes." "I don't very often give in, but things were worrying. And I had a silly little cry in the meadow. He came upon me, and he said it was just an early shower—'just the pride o' the morning.' He told me one must not expect to have everything always smooth, but he hoped mine was going to be a happy life. And since then when we meet, he often says, 'Well, little Pride of the Morning, how goes the world with you now?'" "I should like to know your Vicar." "Would you? Barbara doesn't like him. And Grannie—sometimes—says he's too fond of ceremonies." "I am sure I should like him." Not till well on in the afternoon did they once more stand at the garden gate of Burn Cottage, within which sat the handsome old lady, with a look of trouble on her face. She had been during the interim sedulously lectured by her elder grand-daughter for lapse of principle; and her own conscience was not happy. After all these years keeping the undesirable nephew out of reach, and tabooing his acquaintance for Phyllys, it was a degree startling that she should have succumbed at the first touch. To Barbara, over whom Giles had exercised no attraction—perhaps could not if he would!—the change of front was inexplicable. She had no imagination, and she could not picture those memories of Phyllys' father, first stirred by Mr. Dugdale, then called into life by Giles. In her eyes the consent was simply an act of weakness and folly. She neither knew nor cared what her grandmother's motives might be. She disliked the idea of Phyllys going to Castle Hill, and she never dreamt of searching into her own sub-surface workings, to find the hidden jealousy. Having been long used to submit to the joint dictum of Barbara and Miss Robins, Mrs. Wyverne could not meet their condemnation with indifference. She took herself seriously to task for allowing the walk and consenting to the visit. Still, consent was consent. When, after Giles' departure, a fresh attack was made upon her by the combined forces of the two women, she refused to withdraw permission. "I cannot alter now," she said. "The matter is settled and I have given my word. If I have yielded wrongfully, I trust I may be forgiven. And I hope that Phyllys, when away from home, will not be led into evil." Phyllys kissed her grandmother, in token of right intentions. What could she say? The idea of being "led into evil" by Giles was absurd. Though she did not yet know him well, she had not a particle of doubt as to his goodness. CHAPTER VII A STERN CHASE WITH concealed rapture Phyllys heard of the promised visit to Castle Hill; and nothing was further from her expectations than to set eyes again on Giles before going. She hardly even wished to do so. There was so much to do and to think about during the next three weeks.