The milk at the right temperature--for Nora was too experienced a dairy-woman not to know that if she attempted to churn at the wrong one, it would be hours before the butter came--she took out the thermometer, and turned the milk into the churn. As she was doing this, the servant, Nanny, entered: a tall, stolid girl, remarkable for little except height. "Is nobody coming in to churn?" asked she. "It seems not," answered Nora. "Shall I do it?" "Not if I know it," returned Nora. "You'd like to quit your work for this pastime, wouldn't you? Have you the potatoes on for the pigs?" "No," said Nanny. "Then go and see about, it. You know it was to be done to-day. And I suppose the fire's burning away under the furnace." Fanny stalked out of the dairy. Nora churned away steadily, and turned her butter on to the making-up board in about three-quarters of an hour. As she was proceeding with it, she saw George ride into the fold-yard, and leave his horse in the stable. Another minute and he came in. "Has Mr. Callaway not come yet, Nora?" "I have seen nothing of him, Mr. George." George took out his watch: the one bequeathed him by his father. It was only a silver one--as Mr. Ryle had remarked--but George valued it as though it had been set in diamonds. He would wear that watch and no other as long as he lived. His initials were engraved on it now: G. B. R. standing for George Berkeley Ryle. "If Callaway cannot keep his appointment better than this, I shall beg him not to make any more with me," he remarked. "The last time he kept me waiting three-quarters of an hour." "Have you seen Jim Sanders this morning?" asked Nora. "I saw him in the stables as I rode out." "I should like to find him!" said Nora. "He is skulking somewhere. I have had to churn myself." "Where's Roger?" "Roger couldn't hinder his time indoors to-day. Mr. George, what's up at Trevlyn Hold again about Rupert?" resumed Nora, turning from her butter to glance at George. "Why do you ask?" "Chattaway rode by an hour ago when I was outside looking after Jim Sanders. He stopped his horse and asked how we came to give Rupert a bed last night, when we knew that it would displease him. Like his insolence!" "What answer did you make?" said George, after a pause. "I gave him one," replied Nora, significantly. "Chattaway needn't fear not getting an answer when he comes to me. He knows that." "But what did you say about Rupert?" "I said that he had not slept here. If Chattaway----"