“Oh, laws, so you’re the new chauffeur! Well, I never!” And, leaving the drawer open, she turned abruptly, leant her back to the dresser, and surveyed him exhaustively.
He nodded.
“And so that’s the sort of work the old devil has set you to? Lady Kesters engaged me for this place, and by all accounts she did the same kindness by you and me! I understood as this was a proper establishment, with a regular housekeeper and men—a butler at least and a couple of footmen; there isn’t as much as a page-boy. It’s a swindle! I suppose you take your meals with us?” (Here, with an animated gesture, she dismissed an inquisitive kitchen-maid.)
“No; I board myself.”
Her face fell. This good-looking chauffeur would be some one to flirt with, and her voice took a yet sharper key.
“You’re from London, I can see, and so am I. Lord! this is a change”—now casting herself into a chair. “Ye see, I was ordered country air, and so I came—the wages being fair, and assistance given; and thinking we were in a park, I brought my bicycle, and expecting there’d be some society, I brought a couple of ball-gowns, and find this!” and her expression was tragic.
“Have you been here long?” he asked civilly.
“Two weeks too long. I give notice next day, and am going at the month, and you won’t be long after me, I bet! Do you bike?”
“No,” he answered rather shortly.
“Well, anyway, you’ve the use of your legs! To-morrow is my evening out, so you come round here at five, and I’ll give you a nice cup o’ tea, and we’ll go for a stroll together. We ought to be friendly, seeing as we both come from Lady Kesters’ recommendation.”