But she had another little game, too, to watch over. One day Doctor Jolly had come to visit at the house where she was employed as a governess, and where she was about leaving, on account of the breaking up of the household. Doctor Jolly was impressed with her, and our heroine, having made enquiries, thought there might be worse lots in life than being a rich doctress: so she made eyes at him, and set her cap coquettishly. The doctor mentioned that Mrs Hartshorne was in want of a lady companion for her daughter, and said he would recommend her. Miss Kingscott was agreeable. She had heard there was an only son--Poor Tom!--and who knew what might turn up? Besides, she would be near the doctor, and consequently have him to fall back upon. And so she came to be domesticated at The Poplars. The old lady squabbled with her, but she gave her as much as she got; and the dowager, pleased with having some one worth quarrelling with, retained her. Susan, of course, was passive in her hands, and the son of the house she had not yet seen, so she bided her time, and diligently cultivated old Jolly, whose cheery "How-de-do!" to her would be heard afar, echoing through the poplar trees when he came to visit at the house, which he now did much oftener than before. She was surprised, naturally, to see Markworth at the present juncture, but not so much as he was. He of course had not recognised her new name, which, indeed, he had never heard of before; and would have been as pleased--aye! more so--to have met his Satanic Majesty now than his quondam Parisian love--the little English governess. "Damn her!" he growled, _sotto voce_ to himself; "what the devil brings her here to spoil my game?" Volume 1, Chapter V. COUNTING THE COST. "Miss Kingscott, I presume?" said Tom, bowing politely, as the lady gave a Parthian glance, sharp, quick, and incisive, of mingled recognition and command-to-keep-his-own-counsel-until-further-orders at her _soi-disant_ lover Markworth, who stood in the rear of his companion, and who, although he was startled at her appearance, was too much the cool man of the world to give expression aloud to his astonishment. "Humph!" he thought unto himself, as he pulled his wits together. "I'm to keep dark, I suppose," and he adopted an air of well-bred indifference. Miss Kingscott smiled bewitchingly on the young squire. "I am Tom Hartshorne," continued that gentleman, in a warm, friendly manner. "You have been very kind to my sister, and I hope we shall be friends." This was a pleasant little fiction, by the way, on Tom's part, as he had no previous knowledge whatever of Miss Kingscott's kindness, or the reverse, but the young officer was of a gallant disposition.