When the match was over, she kept her eye on the hero of the occasion, and, seeing him getting into his coat and preparing to depart, she beckoned eagerly, and then hurried towards him with outstretched hands.
“Congratulate you, Owen! I do feel so proud of you!”
“Thank you, miss. I’m going to fetch the car—it’s getting late.”
“Can you tell me the time?”
He pulled out his watch from his breast-pocket, and hastily touched—as luck would have it—the wrong spring; the back flew open, and a small photograph, no bigger than a finger-nail, fell upon the grass. In a second Owen had put his foot upon it, swooped, and snatched it up. Whether from stooping or otherwise, his colour was higher than usual, as he boldly confronted Miss Susan, whose face had become unusually grave—for, unless her eyes deceived her (and she had capital sight) the treasure was a photograph of her niece Aurea, cut out of a group of “First Aid” recently taken at the Rectory! She had recognised it in one lightning glance!
However, the chauffeur met her eyes imperturbably, as he replaced the little scrap, opened the face of his watch, and announced, with staggering self-possession—
“Half-past six, Miss Susan.”
Miss Susan turned hastily away, her maiden mind in a violent commotion. So Owen, the chauffeur, carried Aurea’s photograph about with him in his watch! What did it mean? Well, of course, it could only mean one thing, he was—and who could wonder—in love with the girl! Yes, and the conviction gave Miss Susan a violent shock; she was scandalised, she was pleased, and she was not pleased—a peculiar and contrary state of mind. She determined to keep the amazing revelation to herself. Aurea must not be told on any account—it might put disturbing ideas into her head—it would not be proper; and for one whole week Miss Susan contained her mighty secret, which secret disagreed with her both mentally and physically. She was short and snappy—a new phase of her character—ate little, avoided the garden, and mainly subsisted on tea. At the end of seven long days she found her endurance had reached its limits, and, sitting with her back to the dim light of the Rectory drawing-room, Susan Parrett solemnly divulged to her niece the tale of her significant discovery.
Was she shocked? Did she turn red and white? No, indeed; Aurea received the astonishing information with a peal of laughter.
“Oh, my dearest Susie, what a tale! Why, it was no more my photograph than yours! Am I the only young woman that is known to Owen, the chauffeur?”