“But you engaged him to drive the car, and if you are afraid to go out in it, is that his fault?” argued Susan, with surprising courage. “Who says I’m afraid?” demanded Miss Parrett furiously. “Susan, you forget yourself. I shall have the car to-morrow, and motor over to call on the Woolcocks.” Meanwhile Owen passed into the back premises, which were old and spacious. Here, in a vast kitchen overlooking a great paved yard, he found a tall woman engaged in violently raking out the range. She started as he entered, and turned a handsome, ill-tempered face upon him. “Can you let me have some cloths and a bucket of hot water?” he asked in his clear, well-bred voice. “Yes, sir,” she answered, going to a drawer. “What sort of cloths--flannels or rubbers?” “Something for cleaning windows.” “Oh, laws, so you’re the new chauffeur! Well, I never!” And, leaving the drawer open, she turned abruptly, leant her back to the dresser, and surveyed him exhaustively. He nodded. “And so that’s the sort of work the old devil has set you to? Lady Kesters engaged me for this place, and by all accounts she did the same kindness by you and me! I understood as this was a proper establishment, with a regular housekeeper and _men_--a butler at least and a couple of footmen; there isn’t as much as a page-boy. It’s a swindle! I suppose you take your meals with us?” (Here, with an animated gesture, she dismissed an inquisitive kitchen-maid.) “No; I board myself.” Her face fell. This good-looking chauffeur would be some one to flirt with, and her voice took a yet sharper key. “You’re from London, I can see, and so am I. Lord! this is a change”--now casting herself into a chair. “Ye see, I was ordered country air, and so I came--the wages being fair, and assistance given; and thinking we were in a park, I brought my bicycle, and expecting there’d be some society, I brought a couple of ball-gowns, and find this!” and her expression was tragic. “Have you been here long?” he asked civilly. “Two weeks too long. I give notice next day, and am going at the month, and you won’t be long after me, _I_ bet! Do you bike?” “No,” he answered rather shortly. “Well, anyway, you’ve the use of your legs! To-morrow is my evening out, so you come round here at five, and I’ll give you a nice cup o’ tea, and we’ll go for a stroll together. We _ought_ to be friendly, seeing as we both come from Lady Kesters’ recommendation.” To walk out with the cook! This was ten times worse than window-cleaning! Wynyard was beating his brain for some civil excuse when Miss Parrett herself appeared in the doorway--an accusing and alarming figure. “This is a nice way you waste my time!” she exclaimed, with an angry glance at both. “You and cook gossiping together and idling. Where are the cloths and the hot water, young man?”