"It's too bad!" said he, striking his stick against the tree by which he was standing,--"it's too bad that there should be all this lot of money in the world, and that I should have none of it, while this cove here--O yes, if you please, my horses goin' out with the grooms; my gardeners a bringin' pines and melons and all the rest of it; my keeper a-waitin' to know how many pheasants I'm going to kill to-day! Damme, it's sickening!" Mr. Effingham struck the tree again, pushed his hat over his eyes, and started off in his walk. When he had proceeded about half-way up the avenue, he climbed the iron fence, and started off to the right over the park, until he reached a little knoll, on the top of which were two magnificent cedars. On the other side of these cedars, and completely hidden by them from the house, was a carved rustic seat. On reaching the top of the knoll, Mr. Effingham looked round, and seeing nobody, sat down, put his feet up, and made himself most comfortable. A lengthened contemplation of the cedars, however, instead, as might have been expected, of bringing calm to his perturbed soul, served only to remind him that they, in common with all the surroundings, were the property of somebody else, and that on that somebody else he had a tremendous hold, provided he went properly to work. "And I'll do it!" said he, taking his feet off the bench, and pushing the felt wideawake hat into all kinds of shapes in his excitement,--"I'll do it too! Now, let me see! My friend will be here presently--let me just run through what's to be done. Quiet's the game with her, I think; no bullyrag and bluster--quiet and soft. No connection with any one here--never even heard the name--sent by the other parties--I'm so innocent. Yes, I think that will do; then, when we've once started together, I can make my own terms.--How late she is! She must be awfully down on her luck at being spotted down here, and she must suspect something by the quick way in which she agreed to meet me here when I spoke to her yesterday as she was walkin' with the young 'un,--made no bones about it at all. She won't fail me, I suppose." Oh no, she would not fail him. There she was, crossing the park apparently from the back of the stables, and making straight for the cedars. Could it be she? A figure bent nearly double, dressed in an old-fashioned black-silk cloak and a poke-bonnet, and leaning on a thick umbrella. It was not until she was well under the shadow of the cedars, that she straightened herself, pushed back her bonnet, and stood revealed as Miss Gillespie. "Good-morning," said she, so crisply and blithely that Mr. Effingham, who had expected she would adopt a very, different tone, was quite astonished; "I'm afraid I'm a little late, Mr. ----; you did not favour me with your name; but the fact is, as you probably know, I am not my own mistress, and my services were required just as I was about to start."