With Giles things were otherwise. He found himself unable to rest without another glimpse. He did not yet say to himself that Phyllys might be more than cousin. He only knew that he could not get her out of his thoughts; that no sooner was he away from Midfell than he wanted to get back. For five days he held out, determined not to act upon impulse. Then a member of his host's family fell seriously ill; and visitors took themselves off. Giles had a shooting engagement in the Highlands a week later, and nothing between. He resolved to spend the time at Midfell, asking no man's leave. The grandmother and cousin might not be delighted, but that he would risk; and he posted a line to Mrs. Wyverne, stating his intentions, remarking on the pleasure it would be to see them again. The letter brought dismay. Mrs. Wyverne said nothing to Phyllys, still looking on her younger grand-daughter as a child; but she consulted with Barbara. Both recognised that nothing could be done. Giles had as clear a right as any human being to put up at the village Inn, if he chose, and to study the country. Though Mrs. Wyverne might demur, and Barbara might frown, they could not interfere. "But of course you will not have him in and out all day long, turning everything upside down," the latter said with disgust. "Phyllys will be completely upset. Better to get her out of the way this afternoon, so that you can have a few words alone with him. You will have to be firm!" The speaker set her teeth. "I will make an errand for Phyllys, and we will say nothing to her, or she may refuse to go. You see, he intends to call directly he arrives." Mrs. Wyverne made no objection, and Phyllys, to her surprise, was asked to take a long walk to an outlying farm, where she loved to go, but was not often permitted. She had been only once without a companion, and the idea was charming. Barbara seldom suggested anything so much to her taste. To fetch a warm shawl, left there, was the ostensible motive. Phyllys laughingly remarked that she would have a good "forenoon drinking," the local colloquialism for a mid-morning lunch, and would get something to eat at the farm. Barbara objected, not wishing her to get back early. After "dinner" would be best, she said. The days were long, and Phyllys could do her morning tasks. "All right," agreed the girl. "I shall have a rest, and come back by the moor. It will be fun, won't it, Wiggles?" Wiggles wagged an appreciative tail. Not till she had left the house did Barbara note an ominous thickness upon the surrounding fells. It occurred to her that she ought to have warned Phyllys to return by the road, but it was now too late; so she dismissed the question from her mind. After all, Phyllys was old enough to be sensible. Early in the afternoon, as Barbara had predicted, Giles Randolph walked in. He greeted his great-aunt kindly, his cousin politely; and his eyes went in search of some one else. "Where is Phyllys?" came soon.