“No, I stop on till the car breaks up.” Lady Kesters raised her eyebrows. “Well, I can only hope that blest epoch will be _soon_! I met Miss Susan, you know, and the crafty old thing was fishing to find out who you are? She has her suspicions, but I gave her no assistance. The niece was with her--Miss Aurea----” She paused expressively, then went on, “Owen--she’s a remarkably pretty girl.” He nodded. “Yes, I understand your reason for remaining in Ottinge; it is beautiful--simplicity itself.” She looked at her brother attentively. “Are you making love to her?” “I--her aunts’ chauffeur?” “Nonsense! _Are_ you in love with her?” she persisted. “Come, tell the truth, my dear boy. Why should you not take _me_ into your confidence? Are you?” “Well--I am.” “And she?” “Don’t I tell you that I’m only her aunts’ chauffeur, and my tongue is tied? All the same, Sis--it’s beastly hard lines.” “Then, Owen, you really ought to go away; you’ll soon forget her and Ottinge. I’ll find you another opening at once.” “No, I won’t stir yet,” he answered doggedly. “You are wrong, and on your head be it! I wish you could come out to America with us; but foreign countries are barred.” “Why are you and Martin off there?” artfully changing the subject. “Partly business--chiefly, indeed. He has not been well, and I can’t allow him to go alone; but, anyway, I’m looking forward to the trip. Tell me, how are you off for money?” “All right; I fare sumptuously on a pound a week and washing extra.” “I suppose you live on bacon? That’s to be _my_ dinner.” “Bacon--eggs--fowl--steak. Mrs. Hogben is a mother to me, and a real good sort.” “I must say I think you look rather thin, Owen.” “I’m glad of it; I’m as fit as a fiddle, and made sixty runs last week for Ottinge. They little dream that I was in the Eton Eleven! Hullo! here are some people coming. I say--what a bore!” No less than two couples now approached arm in arm; as they passed, they stared hard, and even halted to look back. “What _will_ they think, Owen?” and she laughed gaily. “I don’t care a blow what they think!” he answered recklessly; “but all the same you’d better return to the Drum alone.” “Well, mind you come in this evening--I start at nine; you can pretend my chauffeur is your pal--pretend anything!” “Oh, I’m good enough at _pretending_; it’s now my second nature! Joking apart, you ought to be going back to the inn, and getting something to eat.” CHAPTER XXVI THE OBSTACLE At seven o’clock Wynyard went boldly to the Drum and inquired for the lady who was stopping there. Mrs. Frickett stared at him with a stony expression in her dull grey eyes. She had heard of his airs and his impudence from Norris. “Will she see you?” she asked, and her tone was aggressively insolent. “Oh yes,” was the ready answer; “it’s business.” “Oh, if it’s business----” and she gave an incredulous sniff and, flinging open the parlour door, ushered him into the presence of his sister.