“Ottinge-in-the-Marsh is obliged to you!” “Now, you know what I mean, Aurea. You are a clever girl. I put the question to him, and got no satisfactory answer. Is it forgery, murder, piracy on the high seas, somebody’s wife--or what?” She rested her chin on her hand, and nodded sagaciously at her companion. “I understand that he has been working indoors a good deal, and helping you and Miss Susan.” She paused significantly. “You must have seen something of him. Tell me, darling, how did you find him?” “Most useful, wonderfully clever with his hands, strong, obliging, and absolutely speechless.” “Ah! Does he have his meals here?” “No.” “Dear me, what a cruel blow for the maid-servants! Did he come from a garage?” “No; a friend of Aunt Bella’s found him.” “A woman friend?” “Yes; she gave him an excellent character.” “And what of hers?” “Oh, my dear Kathleen, she is Lady Kesters, a tremendously smart Society lady, awfully clever, too, and absolutely _sans reproche_!” “Is that so?” drawled Mrs. Ramsay. “Well, somehow or other, I’ve an uneasy feeling about her protégé. There is more than meets the eye with respect to that young man’s character, believe me. My woman’s instinct says so. I’m sorry he has come down and taken up your aunt’s situation, for I seem to feel in me bones that he will bring trouble to some one.” “Oh, Kathleen! You and your Irish superstitions!” and Aurea threw up her hands, clasping them among her masses of hair, and stared into her friend’s face and laughed. “Well, dear, if he does nothing worse, he will have half the girls in love with him, and breaking their hearts. It’s too bad of him, so good-looking, and so smart, coming and throwing the ‘comether’ over this sleepy little village. Believe me, darlin’, he has been turned out of his own place; and it would never surprise _me_ if he was just a nice-looking young wolf in sheep’s clothing!” “Oh, what it is to have the nice, lurid, Celtic imagination!” exclaimed Aurea. “I don’t think the poor man would harm a fly. Joss has taken to him as a brother--and----” “Miss Morven as--a sister?” “Now, what are you two conspiring about?” inquired Miss Susan, entering, brisk, smiling, and inquisitive. “I’m only discussing your chauffeur, me darlin’ Miss Susan. I notice that several of the village girls drop in on Mrs. Hogben--you see I live opposite--and they expose their natural admiration without scruple or reserve.” “Owen is a useful young man, if he is a bit ornamental--isn’t he, Aurea? I’m going to get him to help me in the greenhouse, for I don’t believe, at this rate, that we shall _ever_ use the car.” CHAPTER XIII THE DRUM AND ITS PATRONS