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Gorton’s uneasy predictions that “may lady” would not be pleased, prevailed upon her new abigail to share it with her. Two considerably shaken women sipped tea and discussed the Savage Incident, and by the time Zoe went to scratch at my lady’s door many of the constraints between her and her new abigail had disappeared.
    Lady Buttershaw enjoyed her table, and the host knew better than to set anything but a most excellent supper before her. Zoe scarcely noticed what she ate, however. Her sadly changed circumstances, and my lady’s loud and boring monologue concerning the Domesday Book, were overshadowed by the shiver-some horrors of the amputated foot. As a result, her appetite was considerably impaired, which brought down upon her a severe reproof.
    â€œMine is a most amiable disposition,” asserted Lady Clara with questionable accuracy, “and few things offered me. Even so, to peck at fine food when it is generously bestowed I judge both stupid and ungrateful. You would do well, Miss Grainger, to consider the many people in the world who are starving. Doubtless by reason of their own slothful ways, for there is work for all those willing to exert themselves.” She paused, having momentarily lost her train of thought. Zoe started to respond, but was waved to silence, and her ladyship made a recover and swept on. “I will excuse your die-away airs this evening, on grounds of missing your family—though what there is to miss escapes me! However, when we reach Yerville Hall I shall expect you to mend your ways. You may now speak.”
    â€œI apologize,” said Zoe, and deciding to confide in her “benefactor” added, “To say truth, I had a most upsetting experience while walking in the gardens, and—”
    â€œThere is much to be said for walking. I myself walk quite often in Hyde Park, which is situated conveniently close to my home. The neighborhood is of the first stare, though the other mansions do not compare to Yerville Hall, of course. Still, you will find yourself in the most fashionable of the new areas, and among the best people, for which you may be grateful. Not that I approve of new things, you understand. Indeed, my sister and I prize the things of antiquity. In especial, we are proud of our lineage. You are aware that our late Papa was a belted earl. I daresay you will be held spellbound for days together when you see the historical artifacts which Lady Julia Yerville has assembled. I will spare the time to give you some preliminary instruction on our family background.” Lady Buttershaw cleared her throat, tucked in her chin, and was off again. “The first Yerville of whom we have certain knowledge was Montague de Yervillaunus, who came from Gaul with the Phoenicians to trade for tin in Cornwall; the time being about fifty years before Our Saviour was born. Montague was a great friend of Julius Caesar, and later became involved with the Druids. I should not be surprised if he was able to instruct the savages in the erection of Stonehenge. His eldest son…”
    â€˜I wonder,’ thought Zoe, letting the “preliminary instruction” sweep past her ears, ‘if there is a word of truth in all her nonsense.’ The beady eyes were boring at her, and she smiled sweetly and nodded as though enraptured. It was a great pity she had not obtained the full names of the monsters in the garden. She could have reported them to the constable. There had been three of them, evidently. The one called Templeby she’d not seen, because he had run off like a coward. The gentleman in powder, whose name appeared to have been James, had referred to his foul-tempered friend as Terry—or might it have been Perry? Not much to go on, but if she ever saw either of the rogues again, she was quite sure she would know them.
    After such a crowded and emotional day she was very tired, but she passed a restless night. As they tend to do, the