“I see you have got a new fellow in the office,” said Jack. “I hope it’s not my idleness that made it necessary. I should have gone back on Monday; but I thought you said--” “I am glad you didn’t come,” said Mr. Brownlow, quietly. “I should have told you had there been any occasion. No, it was not for that. You know he came in young Jones’s place.” “He’s not very much like young Jones,” said Jack--“as old as I am, I should think. How she pulls, to be sure! One would think, to see her go, she hadn’t been out for a week.” “Older than you are,” said Mr. Brownlow--“five-and-twenty;” and he gave an unconscious sigh--for it was dark, and the wind was sharp, and the mare very fresh; and under such circumstances a man may relieve his mind, at least to the extent of a sigh, without being obliged to render a reason. So, at least, Mr. Brownlow thought. But Jack heard it, somehow, notwithstanding the ring of the mare’s hoofs and the rush of the wind, and was confounded--as much confounded as he durst venture on being with such a slippery animal to deal with. “Beg your pardon, sir,” said the groom, “keep her steady, sir; this here is the gate she’s always a-shying at.” “Oh, confound her!” said Jack--or perhaps it was “confound you”--which would have been more natural; but the little waltz performed by Mrs. Bess at that moment, and the sharp crack of the whip, and the wind that whistled through all, made his adjuration less distinct than it might have been. When, however, the dangerous gate was past, and they were going on again with great speed and moderate steadiness, he resumed-- “I thought you did not mean to have another in young Jones’s place. I should have said Brown could do all the work. When these fellows have too little to do they get into all sorts of mischief.” “Most fellows do,” said Mr. Brownlow, calmly. “I may as well tell you, Jack, that I wanted young Powys--I know his people; that is to say,” he added hastily, “I don’t know his people. Don’t take it into your head that I do--but still I’ve heard something about them--in a kind of a way; and it’s my special desire to have him there.” “I said nothing against it, sir,” said Jack, displeased. “You are the head, to do whatever you like. I only asked you know.” “Yes, I know you only asked,” said Mr. Brownlow, with quiet decision. “That is my business; but I’d rather you were civil to him, if it is the same to you.” “By Jove, I believe she’ll break our necks some day,” said Jack, in his irritation, though the mare was doing nothing particular. “Going as quiet as a lamb,” the groom said afterward in amazement, “when he let out at her enough to make a saint contrairy.” And “contrairy” she was up to the very door of the house, which perhaps, under the circumstances, was just as well. CHAPTER IX. NEW NEIGHBORS.