"I don’t mind. I shall like whatever you call me, Miss." "Then we shall say Cissy. In the country--where I come from--we don’t call our women-servants by their surnames," said Isla pleasantly as she laid her gloves down and poured out some water. "I’ll get you some hot, Miss, and if you like I’ll unpack after tea downstairs. I’d like to help you." So, in spite of much warning, Cissy capitulated to the newcomer’s undoubted personal charm, and from that moment she was Isla’s faithful ally and friend. As she descended the stair Isla met the French maid, and wished her a cool good-afternoon. "They’re waiting tea now, mees; please to hurry," she said pertly, and Isla passed on. She found the door without mistake, tapped lightly, and entered by invitation of Mrs. Bodley-Chard’s thin, reedy voice, which seemed very weak to proceed from such a substantial body. To her chagrin there was some one else in the room--a youngish man, dressed in a lounge suit of blue serge. He had a slim figure, very dark hair and eyes, and a rather florid complexion. A large moustache, very carefully trimmed, was evidently his pride. He was good-looking after his type, but that was a type which Isla did not admire. He had a gardenia in his button-hole, and the impression created was that of a dandy who gave much consideration to his clothes. She concluded he was some privileged caller who had dropped in, and, without noticing him, she made her way to Mrs. Chard’s couch. "So you have arrived? Glad to see you, Miss Mackinnon. Let me introduce my husband. Gerald, this is Miss Mackinnon." Isla gave a start of extreme surprise as she hastily turned to receive Mr. Bodley-Chard’s greeting. It was a painful surprise, because the man looked almost young enough to be the son of the woman on the sofa, and the disparity between them in almost every respect seemed in her eyes almost insurmountable. Mr. Bodley-Chard was most affable, even complimentary, and in that first interview Isla conceived a dislike of him, which was destined to increase with every opportunity she had of seeing more of him. "Miss Mackinnon will pour out the tea, Edgar," said his wife. "She may as well start right now. Come here, and sit by me." "Right you are, old lady. See how I am kept in leading-strings, Miss Mackinnon," he said, smiling all over his smooth-featured face. "I came home from business an hour earlier than usual this afternoon just on purpose to receive you." "It was unnecessary," said Isla quite coolly. "Can I get you another cushion, Mrs. Chard? You don’t seem to sit very comfortably. I have been used to waiting on an invalid. Do let me help you before I make tea." Her deft and willing left arm went round Mrs. Chard’s shoulders and raised her up a bit. She then shook the cushions, and made her as comfortable as she could, Mr. Chard looking on approvingly the while.