“See!” she exclaimed, “there are chimneys in the hollow--red chimneys--among those trees.” And she was right. As they descended the hill, in a cosy nook at the foot they discovered, hiding itself after the manner of old houses, an ancient dwelling with imposing chimney-stacks, and immense black out-buildings. Here Miss Susan volubly told her story to a respectable elderly woman, who, judging by her pail and hands, had evidently just been feeding the calves. “I don’t know as how I can help you much,” she said; “this is Lord Lambourne’s property as you’ve got into somehow. Whatever brought you down off the high road, ma’am?” “We were told to come this way by a boy on a bicycle. We asked him to direct us to a forge.” “The young limb was just a-making game of you, he was! There ain’t a forge nearer than five miles, and my master took the horses in there this afternoon; he’s not back yet.” “I suppose,” said Miss Susan, “that you have no way of sending me in to Ottinge--no cart or pony you could hire me?” “I’m afraid not, ma’am. Where be Ottinge?” Here was ignorance, or was it envy? “Then I don’t know what I’m to do,” said Miss Susan helplessly. “My sister will be terribly anxious, and I’m sure the motor won’t be fit to travel for quite a long time. What do you think, Owen?” “I think that the motor is about done!” he answered, with emphatic decision. “To-morrow morning I must get a couple of horses somewhere, and cart her home. I wonder if this good woman could put you up for the night? This lady and I,” he explained, “went to Hillminster from Ottinge to-day, and were on our way home when the motor broke down; and I don’t think there’s any chance of our getting to Ottinge to-night.” “Oh yes, I can put the two of you up,” she said, addressing Miss Susan, “both you and your son.” Miss Susan became crimson. “I am Miss Parrett of Ottinge,” she announced, with tremulous dignity; “that is to say, Miss Susan Parrett.” “I’m sure I beg your pardon, Miss Parrett; I can find you a bed for the night. This is a rare big house--it were once a Manor--and we have several empty bedrooms--our family being large, and some of the boys out in the world. Mayhap you’d like something to eat?” “I should--very much,” replied Miss Susan, whose face had cooled, “tea or milk or anything!” At this moment a respectable-looking, elderly man rode up, leading another horse. “Hullo, Hetty,” he said to his wife, “I see you ha’ company, and there’s a sort of motor thing all smashed up, a-lyin’ there in the Blue Gate Lane.” “It’s my motor,” explained Miss Susan, “and we have walked down here just to see what you and your wife could do for us.” “Our best, you may be sure, ma’am,” rejoined the farmer, and descended heavily from his horse, then led the pair towards the stables, where he was followed by Wynyard, who gave him a hand with them and borrowed their services for the morrow.