protested. "You mustn't let him. It's too much. You will
have to tell Sir Samuel that he must find a new chauffeur at once. It
hurts me like a blow to think of such a creature humiliating you. I
couldn't see it done."

He looked at me very kindly, with quite all a brother's tenderness. "My
dear little pal," he said, "you won't have to see it."

"You mean--you will go?" Of course, I wanted him to take my advice, or I
wouldn't have offered it, yet it gave me a heartache to think he was
ready to take it so easily.

"I mean that I'm not the man to let myself be humiliated by a Bertie
Stokes. Possibly he may persuade his stepfather to sack me, but I don't
think he'll succeed in doing that, even if he tries. Sir Samuel, I
suppose, has given him every thing he has; sent him to Oxford (I know he
was there, and scraped through by the skin of his teeth), and allows him
thousands enough to mix with a set where he doesn't belong; but though
the old boy is weak in some ways, he has a strong sense of justice, and
where he likes he is loyal. I think he does like me, and I don't believe
he'd discharge me to please his stepson. Not only that, I should be
surprised if the promising Bertie wanted me discharged. It would be more
in his line to want me kept on, so that he might take it out of me."

I shuddered; but Jack smiled, showing his white teeth almost merrily.
"You may see some fun," he said, "but it shan't be death to the frogs;
not so bad as that. And I shall have you to be kind to me."

"Kind to you!" I echoed, rather tremulously. (If he only knew how kind I
should like to be!) "Yes, I will be kind. But I can't do anything to
make up for what you'll have to bear. You had better go."

"Perhaps I would, if I could take you away with me, but that can't be.
And, no, even in that case, I should prefer to stick it out. I shouldn't
like to let that young bounder drive me from a place, whether I wanted
to go or not. And do you think I would clear out, and leave him to worry
you?"

"He can't," I said.

"I wish I were sure of that. When the beast sees you without your
veil--oh, hang it, you mustn't let him come near you, you know."

"He isn't likely to take the slightest notice of his stepfather's wife's
maid," said I, "especially as he's dying to marry the American heiress
here."

"Anyhow, be careful."

"I shan't look at him if I can help it. And we shall be gone before
long. I believe the Turnours' invitation, which their Ber