"Three other people have offered since to fetch Phyllys, and I wish any of them had spoken before Mr. Hazel. The Hazel influence for Phyllys is objectionable." "The man is more than half a Jesuit at heart," declared Miss Robins. "The most extraordinary thing is the way Giles Randolph has managed to wheedle my grandmother," said Barbara, frowning. No one but herself would have applied such a word to Giles. "He seems to do whatever he chooses with her." "Fascination—captivation," murmured Miss Robins, in her favourite sing-song voice. "Your grandmother is so truly excellent a woman, it is inconceivable that she should have given in to the wiles of an unprincipled man, without regard to the welfare of Phyllys, but for some occult influence on his part. Really, no other explanation is possible. I only trust we shall not find Phyllys' character completely deteriorated through the baleful associations of Castle Hill and the contaminations of irreligious society." Miss Robins was a lover of polysyllabic words. "Not much chance, I'm afraid. The girl has no strength of principle; she cares for nothing but admiration. Well—" with a solemn satisfaction in her own forebodings—"we shall see. My own belief is that they have got hold of the girl, and that nothing now will break her loose. But I shall do my best." Meanwhile Phyllys, reaching Garfield Station, nearly ten miles distant from Midfell, looked out for some familiar face. If no "lift" were to be had, a cab would be there; but this expense was, when possible, avoided, and those who owned vehicles seldom failed to place them at the disposal of others less well off. Nor was she disappointed. As the train steamed in she caught a glimpse of the Vicarage pony-carriage; then found herself face to face with the Vicar. His ruddy face was framed in soft grey hair; a shapeless wide-awake sat far back on his broad head; tan gloves of unknown antiquity were gripped in one rugged veined hand; the other was outstretched in welcome; and a beaming but embarrassed smile lit up his features. "Well, little Pride of the Morning," he said, "so here you are! Bright and well, eh? We are glad to have you back." "But Grannie?" she questioned anxiously. Mr. Hazel, recalling his wife's injunctions—injunctions primed by Miss Pringle—but forgetting what he had been told to say, smiled perplexedly. "Oh! Ah! Yes; to be sure, yes! She was ailing yesterday; upset and out of sorts. They had to send for Mr. Jones, and he thought her—" The sentence died into a mumble. "But she is all right again to-day, so no need to worry your little head." The very remark which Barbara had stipulated should not be made. "Now for your luggage," and to escape questioning he marched to where her trunks lay. The smaller could be carried with them; the larger had to be sent next day. Mr. Hazel gave directions, and Phyllys stood by in silence.