Woolly had tons of money; he was so rich that possibly he had never seen a penny! His attentions to Aurea, his rides, his churchgoing, his marked civilities to Miss Parrett, paraded themselves before Wynyard’s mental sight--and the old Polly bird was all for the match! Why, that very afternoon, as she was leaving Westmere, she had held a long, mysterious “last word” conversation with Mrs. Waring before she bundled into the car, and squeaked out “Home--and go slowly!” Meanwhile, Woolcock’s fluffy-haired sister stood on the steps with her hands on her hips, a newly lit cigarette in her mouth, the very embodiment of triumphant satisfaction! Undoubtedly a solemn treaty had been signed and sealed. He had no powerful allies, how could he interfere? His mind groped round the puzzle in confusion and despair. If his own forefathers had not been such crazy, spendthrift fools, he would not have found himself in this maddening situation. To think that his great-grandfather had lost thousands of pounds and hundreds of acres, racing snails on the dining-room mahogany, against another lunatic! However, the original place still remained in the family, also the most important heirlooms, and these were _pucka_ (good old Indian word!) and not those of other people. If he could only hold on to the end, and put in his time fairly and squarely, he might yet see Aurea at Wynyard--though at present his prospects were blank; all he had to his name was his weekly wages, and these wages, figuratively, bore him into the presence of Miss Parrett. What an old bully she was! how she brow-beat and hectored her unfortunate sister, and what a jabbering impostor! talking incessantly of all she did, and was going to do, but leaving everything in the way of work to Miss Susan and her niece--whilst _she_ trotted round spying and scolding. As Wynyard reclined against the bank smoking, absorbed in his reflections--and Joss was equally engrossed in an adjacent ditch--a far-away sound broke faintly on their ears. In a few seconds this had resolved itself into the regular “thud, thud, thud,” of a galloping horse, and here he came into sight--a chestnut in a lather, with streaming reins, and exultant tail, carrying an empty side saddle. Wynyard instantly recognised Aurea’s weedy thoroughbred, and, flinging away his cigar, ran forward, but the animal, bound for his stable, was not thus to be captured and detained; with a snort of defiance, he made a violent swerve, and tore on, hotly pursued by Joss. CHAPTER XXIV ON YAMPTON HILL