At this moment the object of her conversation threw up the sash and stepped into the room--a fine figure in his clean blue shirt, turned up to the elbows, well-cut breeches, and neat leather leggings. “I’ve finished this room, miss,” he said, addressing himself to Miss Susan. “What am I to do next?” and his eyes rested upon her with respectful inquiry. “No more windows to-day, thank you, Owen. I expect it is nearly your dinner-hour.” “Shall you require the car this afternoon, miss?” “No; but it will certainly be wanted to-morrow,--eh, Aurea?” “Then I’d better take her out and give her a turn;” and with this remark he picked up his bucket and rags, and walked out of the room. During this brief conversation, Aurea stood by listening with all her ears, and making mental notes. Her aunt’s new chauffeur, with his clean, tanned, high-bred face, spoke like an educated man. “My dear Susie,” she inquired, “where did Lady Kesters get hold of such a superior person?” “I’m sure I can’t tell you. She said she had known his family all her life, and that they were most respectable people. Chauffeurs are supposed to be smart, and well-groomed, eh?” Yes, but there was more than this about the late window-cleaner-- something in his gait, carriage, and voice, and, unless she was greatly mistaken, the new employé was a gentleman; but with unusual prudence Aurea contrived to keep her suspicion to herself. Aloud she said-- “Well, now, let us see about the carpet! This room ought to be settled at once--pictures up, and curtains; there’s no place to ask visitors into, and you’ve been here six months. You are lazy, Miss Susan Parrett--this _is_ sleepy hollow.” “Oh, my dear child, you know perfectly well it’s your Aunt Bella; and she won’t make up her mind. What’s done one day is taken down another. What _is_ that awful row?” “It’s Mackenzie and Joss,” cried Aurea, dashing towards the door. Mackenzie, at large and unnoticed, had stealthily followed the chauffeur out of the room, and stolen a march upon his deadly enemy--Miss Parrett’s impudent and interloping mongrel. The result of this dramatic meeting was a scene in the hall, where Miss Parrett, mounted on a chair, looked on, uttering breathless shrieks of “Aurea! Aurea! it’s all _your_ fault!” whilst round and round, and to and fro, raged the infuriated animals, snarling and growling ferociously, their teeth viciously fastened in each other’s flesh. Mackenzie, the more experienced, able-bodied, and malevolent of the two, had Joss by the throat--Joss, for his part, was steadily chewing through Mackenzie’s fore-leg. Here Wynyard came to the rescue, and, though severely bitten, succeeded after some difficulty in separating the combatants; he and Miss Aurea somehow managed it between them, but he had borne the brunt of the fray, the forefront of the battle.