A Rolling Stone by B. M. Croker

By the middle of June Miss Susan had departed to visit friends in the south of England, escorting her niece as far as London, where she was to spend some weeks with General and Mrs. Morven. The motor was in hospital at Brodfield, and Owen, the chauffeur, had absolutely nothing to do; no gardening, no greenhouse, no car. Miss Parrett was now the undisputed ruler of Ottinge -- manor and village -- and he kept out of her way in a crafty, not to say cowardly, fashion; when at home, Miss Susan and her niece had intervened as buffers between him and Miss Parrett's despotic rudeness. Doubtless her bullying and browbeating were a legacy from her burly grandfather, the Hoogly Pilot; indeed, she was positively so insulting with regard to repairs, his bill for petrol, and the extraordinary -- the incredible quantity he wasted, that sooner than face her and have rows, he more than once paid for it out of his own pocket! But do not let it be for a moment supposed that the chauffeur was afraid of the old lady; he was afraid of himself -- afraid that if she became altogether insupportable, he might lose, in one and the same moment, his temper, and his situation!

When Bella Parrett reigned alone, it was a sore time for the Manor, and especially for Joss. The old lady did not care for any animals or pets, save a venerable green and blue parrot -- her own contemporary. She had accepted Joss, a gift from Mr. Woolcock, as she was assured that, having no man living at the Manor, a dog was a necessity in case of robbers, but chiefly because Miss Parrett half suspected that the Martingales -- neighbours of the Woolcocks -- were anxious to possess the said amusing little puppy. Joss was often in disgrace; but what could one expect of an idle young dog, without companions, education, or pursuits? When Susan was at home all went well; she looked after him and screened his failings, and took him out -- though her sister frequently expostulated, and said --