To walk out with the cook! This was ten times worse than window-cleaning! Wynyard was beating his brain for some civil excuse when Miss Parrett herself appeared in the doorway—an accusing and alarming figure.
“This is a nice way you waste my time!” she exclaimed, with an angry glance at both. “You and cook gossiping together and idling. Where are the cloths and the hot water, young man?”
The cook, grumbling audibly and insolently, went back to the dresser, and Miss Parrett, with folded arms, waited dramatically in the kitchen till Wynyard was provided for. He then walked off with a brief “Thank you” to his fellow-culprit. As he passed along the flagged passage he caught Miss Parrett’s shrill voice saying—
“Now, I’ll not have you flirting with that young man, so I warn you! I’ll have no carryings-on in my house.”
Then a door was slammed with thunderous violence, and there was silence.
No, by Jove, he could not stand it, he said to himself as he set down his bucket, and wrung out a cloth; like the cook, he, too, would depart, and in his next situation stipulate for no women. Of course Leila would be disappointed, and he was sorry; but Leila would never ask him to put up with this! He would give a week’s notice and advertise; he had enough money to keep him going for a while, and his certificate.
Presently he set to work on the dining-room, where there were three old casemented, mullioned windows; to clean these he stood on the lawn, and had begun his job when Miss Susan entered, smiling and radiating good humour.
“I dare say you don’t know much about this sort of work,” she began apologetically, “and I’ll just show you! You have to use lots of clean water, and stand outside on the lawn—no fear of breaking your neck.” Then in another tone she added, “I’ll see you are not asked to do this again; at present we are rather short-handed, but by and by everything will go smoothly.” She was about to add something more, when her sister put her head in at the door, and called out—
“Now, do come away, Susan, and don’t stand gossiping with the young man, and idling him at his work. He has wasted half an hour with the cook already!”
Wynyard, as he rubbed away at the panes, whistled gaily whilst his mind dwelt on many matters, amongst others of how strange that he should be down in this queer, God-forsaken village, living in a labourer’s cottage, and employed in cleaning windows! Well, he had Miss Susan’s word for it that he would not be asked to do it again; she was a good sort, with a nice, cheery face, and such a pair of twinkling blue eyes. Then he thought of the tragic cook, also sent by Leila, and he laughed aloud. The house wanted a lot of servants, and as far as he could gather the staff was short-handed; probably Miss Aurea would see to all this, since she managed every one in Ottinge, did as she liked, and was the prettiest girl within ten parishes!