“It would be a good thing if you were, Theo,” reproachfully from Mrs. Waters. “I am sure your uncle has a heart of gold.” “Always means there’s something else the matter with a person”—thus the irrepressible Theo. “People with ‘hearts of gold’ are either fearfully rude like old Miss Crabbe, and never say ‘Thank you,’ or they don’t care a rap what they do say, like Uncle Albert. If he doesn’t happen to approve of Billy’s _fiancée_, he’ll think nothing of telling Billy to break off——” “Break off yourself, young woman. You talk a good deal too much,” put in her brother, as he rose, big and well-groomed, from the breakfast-table. “And keep Cariad, will you? He knows he never follows anyone but his mistress, but I’ve had to send the station-master’s boy back with him three times this week. Good-bye, all.” “Good-bye,” said I sweetly. “Give my love to the Near Oriental, especially to the typists’ room, will you? How stuffy it will be getting there now! How thankful I am for anything that keeps _me_ out of it on a morning like this! Still, I suppose one ought not to abuse the place where we first met.” This with a glance at him, expressly for Blanche’s benefit, from under my eyelashes. For I am acquiring a taste for positively “baiting” my employer. I’m not going to be the one made to feel all the awkwardness of the situation. Not I! Let _him_ redden with embarrassment before the guileless remarks or questions that I aim at him before his mother and sisters. Serve him right! As for my employer’s feelings towards me, I have seen them ripening from obliviousness of my presence, through indifference and dislike, into positive _hatred_! I knew he’d felt the flick of my last remark. I also knew how he would have liked to retaliate. Any time since that first evening in the den I have seen in his eye the yearning to take me by the shoulders and shake me. But he said serenely: “It is a glorious morning, certainly. Too fine not to walk down to Sevenoaks, so I’m starting a little earlier.” Good! I thought. I always welcomed the moment that saw the last, for the whole happy, idle day, of the only inhabitant of The Lawn with whom I’m not on excellent terms. Once _he’s_ out of the house, I can enjoy myself and forget (almost) why I’m in it. So it was an annoying shock to me when he stopped short on his way to the door and added: “Nancy, do you care to come part of the way towards the station with me?” He had me there. I saw there was no escape. For the first time this week he was able to check me in having things all my own way; and, mortified and irritated as I felt, I could only smile up at him in Manner A, and reply, all eager delight: “Oh, I’d love it! Give me two minutes to put on my hat.” In five minutes—for I knew he’d loads of time for his train, and it was still a further turning of the tables to keep the Governor waiting—I joined him outside the front door.