as “the Tebbs’s Eliza.”  Although an admirable and trustworthy servant, Eliza ruled the household, permitted no late hours, no breakfasts in bed, no unnecessary fires, no unnecessary, guests.  Her mistresses were obliged to do a considerable amount of household work; for instance, they made their beds and Miss Tebbs dusted the china; she also had the charge of the linen and store-room; whilst Miss Jane was responsible for the silver, the lamps, and, on Eliza’s day out, “the door.”

When the door was answered by Eliza in person, her manner was so fierce and intimidating that nervous callers complained that the Tebbs’ maid looked as if she was ready to fly at, and bite them!  Ill-natured tongues declared that the tyrant was tolerated merely because she was a channel for the most far-reaching, fresh and sensational gossip.  But let us hope that this was a malignant libel!

Highfield Cottage was old, two-storied and solid; elsewhere than Tadpool it might have ventured to pose as a villa residence, but Tadpool, a fine, sixteenth century, self-respecting and historical village, tolerated no villas.  If such abodes ventured to arise, they sprouted timidly in the fields beyond its boundaries.  Moreover, the age and history of Highfield Cottage were too widely known for any change of name.  The cottage was connected with the high road by a prim little garden and a red-tiled footpath; eight long narrow windows commanded a satisfactory outlook—­including Littlecote Hall—­a square white mansion withdrawn in dignified retirement behind elms and beeches, in age the contemporary of its humbler vis-a-vis.

Here resided Edward Shafto, late Fellow of St. John’s, Oxford, his wife Lucilla, and his son Douglas.  Ten years previously the family had descended on Tadpool as from the skies—­or as a heavy stone cast into some quiet mill pond.  No one in the neighbourhood could discover anything about them—­although Jane Tebbs’s exertions in the matter were admittedly prodigious and unwearied.  The house agent proved disappointingly vague, and could only inform her that a gentleman who happened to hear of the place had come down from London, inspected the house, liked its lofty, spacious rooms with their old mahogany doors (it recalled his home), was much taken with the gardens—­and promptly signed the lease!  Certainly it was an audacious step to invade a strange neighbourhood without a social sponsor or reference.  However, the community breathed more freely when they beheld the new tenant of “Littlecote,” a middle-aged, distinguished-looking individual; and Miss Jane discovered, or pretended to discover, that he was one of the Shaftos of Shafton Court.

Mrs. Shafto (who looked surprisingly young to be the mother of a tall lad of ten) had a pretty figure, quantities of lightish red hair, an animated manner, and a pair of hard blue eyes.  She was fashionably turned out, and her hat of a remarkable shape was discussed in the village for weeks.