He dwelt upon the matter of her "looks," and the way she lighted up the dingy dining-room, and so conversed that a man found himself listening and glancing when it was his business to be an unhearing, unseeing piece of mechanism.
Such simple records of servitors' impressions were quite enough for Stornham village, and produced in it a sense of being roused a little from sleep to listen to distant and uncomprehended, but not unagreeable, sounds.
One morning Buttle, the carpenter, looked up as Kedgers had done, and saw standing on the threshold of his shop the tall young woman, who was a sensation and an event in herself.
"You are the master of this shop ?" she asked.
Buttle came forward, touching his brow in hasty salute.
"Yes, my lady," he answered.

"Joseph Buttle, your ladyship." "I am Miss Vanderpoel," dismissing the suddenly bestowed title with easy directness.

"Are you busy?
I want to talk to you." No one had any reason to be "busy" at any time in Stornham village, no such luck; but Buttle did not smile as he replied that he was at liberty and placed himself at his visitor's disposal.

The tall young lady came into the little shop, and took the chair respectfully offered to her.
Buttle saw her eyes sweep the place as if taking in its resources.
"I want to talk to you about some work which must be done at the Court," she explained at once.

"I want to know how much can be done by workmen of the village.