In Phyllys' mind a thought suggested itself. Could Mrs. Keith be a trifle "peculiar" mentally—a degree "touched in the upper story?" Did she suffer from delusions? Had she herself hidden the lost picture, honestly believing it to be, as she had stated, the portrait of her own brother? Or were there two portraits: the one of Giles' ancestor stolen by a thief; the other of Mrs. Keith's brother, its existence unknown? It would be odd that Colin should resemble both portraits; yet less odd than might appear at first sight, since one of the two was a likeness of his own uncle. Whichever might be the explanation, Mrs. Keith showed eccentricity. "Poor thing!" mused Phyllys. "I dare say that is why Giles hardly ever contradicts what she says. Perhaps it is why Colin sometimes has to get the upper hand—not to give in too much." The butler brought in a telegram addressed to herself, and she opened it in trepidation, telegrams at Midfell being rare. "'Grandmother ill, come home to-morrow by early train,'" she read. Her face changed, and she saw those around change also. That of Mrs. Keith might have expressed relief. Giles had the look of one who has received a blow. Colin—was it her fancy that his pale face grew paler? Then she knew that Mrs. Keith was talking—was exclaiming, inquiring, advising. Perhaps there was some mistake. Would Phyllys like to telegraph inquiries? It seemed such a pity to cut short her visit. She had intended dear Phyllys to stay at least another six weeks. One never could tell what telegrams meant—they were so curtly worded; still it might not be anything serious. "Grannie must be very ill, or Barbara would not send for me," Phyllys said. "Could some one tell me the first train?" "The 7.10," Colin observed gently. "Is that too early? Thanks—then I will go by it. I had better put up my things to-night." She glanced from one to another. "I am so sorry. It has been a very happy time; and you have all been so good to me! But of course. I must leave." She went upstairs, and Mrs. Keith followed immediately. "Giles is looking out particulars," she said. "He will go with you to the Junction, and will put you into a through carriage for the north. Your packing shall be done for you, my dear. It is early still, and you can come down for another hour, perhaps—but of course you must get to bed in good time. We are all so sorry. I had written to Mrs. Wyverne to beg for a longer stay. No—I did not tell you. But you must come to us again, some day." Phyllys tried to listen. She felt numbed; whether more at her grandmother's probable danger, or at the abrupt need to leave Castle Hill, she hardly knew. The former she did not yet grasp. The latter was a pressing pain. She wondered why the pain should be so acute. Mrs. Keith moved about the room, restless still. "About that picture," she said. "Odd—isn't it?" She broke into a laugh. "I could not help remembering," murmured Phyllys. "Of course I said nothing, as I had promised."