"Unusual, is it not? I am glad you can appreciate. Now you will like some tea. Where can Colin be?" She rang the bell. "Tell Mr. Keith we are here," she said to the butler. "Mr. Keith desired not to be disturbed, ma'am. Tea was taken by his wish to the studio." A fretted look came, and one cup clicked against another. "Nonsense! What nonsense!" Mrs. Keith's brows drew together. "Does Colin paint?" asked Phyllys. "Mr. Keith, I mean." "He is 'Colin,' not 'Mr. Keith,' to you, my dear. Yes, he dabbles in painting; and lately he has taken an absurd fancy for messing with wet clay, trying to model. Sheer waste of time, for he has no gift in that direction." The resentful tone in which she alluded to Colin's pursuit was in contrast with the note of her next remark. "Such a pity Giles is still away. Yes,—" seeing with pleasure Phyllys' disappointment—"he was to have got home yesterday. But the friend with whom he has been shooting in the Highlands fell ill, and cannot travel. Giles has stayed to take care of him. So like Giles! Always thinking of others before himself! And I know what a disappointment it must be to him. Till he arrives, you must put up with Colin and me." Phyllys tried to hide what she felt. This was indeed a "Waterloo without a Wellington." She hoped she had succeeded, but was not sure. Those fine restless eyes seemed to see a great deal; and so surely as she glanced up she met them. The scrutiny was kind, however, and conveyed approval. This first evening at Castle Hill was very unlike what Phyllys had pictured. One figure, large and quiet, with straight gaze and few utterances, had never been absent from previous visions; but while others, hazy in anticipation, were taking shape, that was the one lacking. Not for long! She found consolation in this thought, and also in Mrs. Keith's assurances that her disappointment was shared by Giles. She could not know that he had given Mrs. Keith no right to make such an assertion, for she had yet to learn the liberal manner in which her hostess was wont to draw upon a vivid imagination. She did find, to her surprise, that nothing was known by Mrs. Keith of her bog adventure or of the part played by Giles. She told the tale simply not without a shivering aversion which she could not yet conquer. Mrs. Keith showed excitement. "My dear, what an awful thing! Too dreadful! If Giles had not been near! Yes, he saved your life! How thankful he must have been! No, he said nothing in his letters. But he would not. That is Giles all over—never speaking of what he has done himself. But you and he will never forget. It seems quite a link between you." She shot a glance to see if this was appreciated. Phyllys took it quietly. Till the dinner-gong sounded, nothing was heard of Colin. Then the butler announced, "Mr. Keith is sorry not to come to dinner." Mrs. Keith made a sharp turn. "Why?" "Mr. Keith does not wish for any dinner, ma'am."