the "dear boy" to himself.

"Young impudence," said the girl, and she closed the door, to return in
a few minutes to show in Mr Trimmer, her ladyship's confidential bailiff
and steward of the estate.

CHAPTER TWO.

A MOST TRUSTWORTHY PERSON.

"Ah, good-morning, Mr Trimmer," said Lady Lisle. "Don't go, Sydney, my
dear. It is as well that you should be present. You cannot do better
than begin to learn the duties of a person of position--the connection
between the owner of property and his, or her, dependants."

"All right, auntie," said Syd, returning, with a quick nod and a keen
look, the obsequious bow of the gaunt-looking man in white cravat and
pepper-and-salt garb.

"Sit down, Mr Trimmer."

"Thank you, my lady."

The steward drew a chair to the table, and placed a particularly neat
bag before him, which he proceeded to open, and brought out a packet of
papers neatly docketed and tied up with green silk ferret in quite legal
fashion.

"What are those, Mr Trimmer?" said the lady, assuming a gold-framed
pince-nez.

"The reports upon the Parliamentary canvass, my lady. Ditto those in
connection with the village charities and your donations in town. If
your ladyship will glance over them I think you will find them perfectly
correct."

"Of course, Mr Trimmer. I will read the latter over at my leisure."

At that moment the merry notes of a well-blown post-horn were heard, and
Lady Lisle started, while Syd ran to the window.

"What is that?"

"I fancy it comes from a coach, my lady, passing the lodge gates."

"Yes, auntie. Drag going over to Tilborough," cried the boy, screwing
his head on one side so as to follow the handsome four-in-hand with its
well-driven team.

"Tut--tut!" ejaculated Lady Lisle. "These degrading meetings! Come
away, Sydney, my dear."

"Yes, auntie," said the boy; and as he was not observed he leant
forward, pressed one hand over the other as if taking a shorter hold of
double reins, gave his right hand a twist to unwind an imaginary
whiplash, followed by a wave something like the throwing of a fly with a
rod, and then smiled to himself as he tickled up an imaginary
off-leader, ending by holding himself up rigidly.

"That's the way to tool 'em along," he said to himself.

"Is there any fresh news in the village, Mr Trimmer?"

"No, my lady, nothing particular, except--er--a little report about
Daniel Smart's daughter."

"Maria, Mr Trimmer. She has not returned?"