Sir Timothy could not have been very busy that morning, for he kept her talking a long time, asking her age and where she came from and how many brothers and sisters she had and what she had learnt at school and if she thought she would like the post office business. “You’ve been well brought up,” he said at last, as weightily as if pronouncing sentence in Court. “And you should do well. Miss Lane is an excellent woman—most efficient, and kind, too, to those of whom she approves, though I should not like to offend her myself. By gad! I should not! I remember one day when she was a girl—but perhaps I had better not tell you that story. Now, I expect you would be glad of some refreshment. Ask Purchase, or Robert, to show you the way to the housekeeper’s room. There’s sure to be tea or coffee or something going there at this time,” and Laura dropped a little curtsy as she said: “No, thank you, Sir Timothy. No, thank you,” and passed through the door which he courteously held open and down the long, resounding stone passage which led to the side door, and was very glad that she saw no one, for when she arrived the footman had teasingly pulled her hair and asked for a kiss.

Out in the park, she turned and looked back at the long, white, battlemented façade of the mansion, with its terraces, fountains, and flower-beds, and thought: “Thank goodness that’s over. I don’t suppose I shall ever see this place again.” But she erred in her supposition. She was to cross the park, come clanging through the iron swing gate, and pass beneath the tall, rook-noisy elms to the mansion every morning in all weathers for nearly three years.

For the first few days Laura feared she would never learn her new duties. Even in that small country Post Office there was in use what seemed to her a bewildering number and variety of official forms, to all of which Miss Lane who loved to make a mystery of her work referred by number, not name. But soon, in actual practice, A/B35, K.21, X.Y.13, or what not became The blue Savings Bank Form, The Postal Order Abstract, The Cash Account Sheet, and so on, and Laura found herself flicking them out of their pigeonholes and carrying them without a moment’s hesitation to where Miss Lane sat doing her accounts at the kitchen table.