There was only one other servant in the little household--a bouncing, rosy-cheeked Cornish girl, who was very industrious under Tabitha’s eye, and very idle when she was out of that faithful housekeeper’s ken. Tabitha cooked and took care of everything, and for the most part waited upon her mistress in this time of widowhood, although Susan was supposed to be parlour-maid. Tabitha poured out the tea, and buttered a roll, while Isola leant back in the bamboo chair and played with the Shah. “I never knew him do such a thing before,” said Tabitha, in continuation of a theme which had been fully discussed last night. “Oh, it was very kind and polite; but it was not such a tremendous thing, after all,” answered Isola, still occupied with the Persian. “He could hardly stand by and see one drowned. You have no idea what the rain was like.” “But to send you home in his own carriage.” “There was nothing else for him to do--except send me home in the gardener’s cart. He could not have turned out a dog in such weather.” “It’s a thing that never happened before, and it just shows what a respect he must have for the Disneys. You don’t know how stand-offish he is with all the people about here--how he keeps himself to himself. Not a bit like his father and mother. They used to entertain all the neighbourhood, and they went everywhere, as affable as you like. He has taken care to show people that he doesn’t want their company. They say he has led a very queer kind of life at home and abroad; never settling down anywhere, here to-day and gone to-morrow; roving about with his yacht. I don’t believe any good ever comes of a young gentleman like that having a yacht. It would be ever so much better for him to live at the Mount and keep a pack of harriers.” “Why should a yacht be bad?” asked Isola, lazily beginning her breakfast, Tabitha standing by the table all the time, ready for conversation. “Oh, I don’t know. It gives a young man too much liberty,” answered Tabitha, shaking her head with a meaning air, as if with a knowledge of dark things in connection with yachts. “He can keep just what company he likes on board--gentlemen or ladies. He can gamble--or drink--as much as he likes. There’s nobody to check him. Sundays and weekdays, night and day, are all alike to him.” “Lord Lostwithiel is not particularly young,” said Isola, musingly, not paying much attention to this homily on yachts. “He must be thirty, I think.” “Thirty-two last birthday. He ought to marry and settle down. They say he’s very clever, and that he’s bound to make a figure in politics some of these odd days.”