A Rolling Stone by B. M. Croker

As the new arrival wandered up the street, and inspected the village, he had been under the impression that the place was deserted -- he scarcely saw a soul; but this was the way of Ottinge folk, they spent most of their time (especially of an evening) indoors, and though he was not aware of it, Ottinge had inspected him! Girls sewing in windows, men lounging in the Drum, women shutting up their fowl, all had noted the stranger, and wondered who this fine, tall young gentleman might be? An hour later they were amazed to learn that he was no more and no less than the Parretts' new chauffeur, who was lodging with Sally Hogben -- Sally, who could talk faster and tell more about a person in five minutes than another in twenty. This intelligence -- which spread as water in a sponge -- created a profound sensation, and shared the local interest with the news of the sudden death of Farmer Dunk's best cow.

The following morning it was the turn of the chauffeur to be surprised. When he repaired to the Manor, to report himself and ask for orders, he encountered Miss Parrett herself in the hall, who informed him, in her shrillest bleat, that as she did not propose to use the car that day, and as there was nothing else for him to do, he could put in his time by cleaning windows. When Wynyard heard Miss Parrett's order, his face hardened, the colour mounted to his forehead, and he was on the point of saying that he had been engaged as chauffeur, and not as charwoman; but a sharp mental whisper arrested the words on his lips: