“I don’t require you to invite me to use my _own_ car, Susan,” rejoined Bella, with crushing dignity. Wynyard gathered that an increase of riches had not been to the moral advantage of Miss Parrett, and felt sorry for her snubbed relation; but Susan, a valiant soul, took what the gods had given her or withheld, with extraordinary philosophy, was never offended, envious, or out of temper, and recovered from these humiliations with the elasticity of an indiarubber ball. “You left London early?” said Miss Parrett, turning to him. “Yes, ma’am, at nine o’clock.” Susan started at the sound of his voice; he spoke like a gentleman! “Then, no doubt you are ready for something to eat? Susan, you may take the young man down the village and introduce him to Mrs. Hogben, and, on the way, you can show him the motor.” Then, to Wynyard, “And as you find it, I shall expect you to _keep_ it. I will give you further orders in the morning.” Then, in the voice of a person speaking to a child: “Now, go with Miss Susan. You won’t be long?” she added, addressing her sister; “there are those letters to be answered.” “No; but anyway I must run up to the Rectory. I’ve just had a note from Aurea; she came home last night.” CHAPTER VII MRS. HOGBEN AT HOME Miss Susan preceded Owen, and as he stalked along the great flagged passage, he noted her trim, light figure, quantity of well-dressed, grizzled hair, and brisk, tripping walk, and he made up his mind--although they had not as yet exchanged a word--that he liked her immeasurably the better of the sisters! How _could_ Leila say they were “dear old things!” Miss Parrett was neither more or less than an ill-bred, purse-proud little bully. On their way out he caught sight, through open doors, of other rooms with mullioned windows, and more vague efforts at refurnishing and embellishment. “We are not long here,” explained Miss Susan, reaching for her hat off a peg, and they crossed a vestibule opening into a huge enclosed yard, “though we lived here as children; it’s only lately we have come back to our own--or rather my sister’s own,” she corrected, with a little nervous laugh. “The Manor has been occupied by a farmer for twenty-five years, and was really in a dreadful state of neglect: the roof and upper floors dropping to pieces, and everything that should have been painted was neglected, and everything that should not have been painted, _was_ painted.” In the yard a small black spaniel, who was chained to his kennel, exhibited convulsions of joy on beholding Miss Susan. As she stooped to unfasten the prisoner, he instantly rushed at Wynyard, but after a critical examination received him with civility. “You are highly favoured,” remarked the lady; “Joss, although a nobody himself, is most particular as to who he knows. He means to know you.” “I’m glad of that--I like dogs. What breed is he?”