Paul proved a satisfactory driver, and the old lady’s fears were soon dissipated.

“You drive better than Frost Mercer,” she said in a tone of satisfaction.

“I am glad to hear you say so, Mrs. Granville,” said Paul, well pleased.

“Frost nearly upset me one day. I don’t think he is generally intemperate, but I suspect he had been drinking something that day.”

“He doesn’t seem to like me,” Paul ventured to say.

“What makes you think so?”

Hereupon Paul related his reception when he went to the barn to harness the horses.

Mrs. Granville listened thoughtfully.

“He should not have acted so,” she said; “I presume he didn’t like the idea of being superseded.”

“Has he been with you a long time?”

“He and his mother have been in my service for a long time. I think Mrs. Mercer is of a jealous disposition. She never wishes me to have any one here, but she is very faithful and loyal.”

“I wonder if that is the case,” thought Paul. The housekeeper did not seem to him like one who would be unselfishly devoted to the service of any one.

Several days passed. Every day Mrs. Granville rode out, sometimes in the forenoon, sometimes in the afternoon, and the effect was perceptible in her improved health and spirits.

“It is fortunate for me that you came here,” she said one day. “Before you came I rode out only once or twice a week. It seems to do me great good to drive every day.”

“Why did you not go out every day, Mrs. Granville?” asked Paul.

“Frost did not seem to like the trouble of going out with me,” she answered. “He often sent word that he was at work, and could not go conveniently.”

Paul wondered whether he was engaged smoking in the barn. In his guess he came near the truth.

“Besides,” added the old lady, “I did not like to ride out with him as well as with you.”

Paul thanked her for the compliment.

“I like to talk with you, but Frost was not very social, and we had very little conversation.”

One afternoon Mrs. Granville asked Paul to drive round to the grocery store. She wished to get a supply of a particular kind of cheese which she had neglected to order through the housekeeper.

It so happened that there were several customers ahead of her, and she had to wait her turn. These were being supplied with various articles, and the old lady could not help overhearing what passed between them and the storekeeper. One thing in especial attracted her attention—the prices that were charged. They were in every instance below those charged on the bills handed in to her by Mrs. Mercer. Mrs. Granville made careful note of these prices, and on the way home broached the matter to Paul.

“What does it mean, Paul, do you think?” she asked.

Paul’s wits had been sharpened by his city experience, and he rapidly penetrated the secret.

“You always buy through Mrs. Mercer, do you not?” he asked.

“Yes; but what of that?”

“If I answer it may prejudice you against the housekeeper, and perhaps unjustly.”

“Still it is only right that you should tell me.”

“Can Mrs. Mercer buy wherever she pleases?”

“Yes; I leave the choice of the place to her.”

“Is there another grocer in the village?”

“Yes; there are two.”

“Then I think she charges this grocer a commission for carrying your trade to him, and he makes up for it by charging you a higher price.”

“Is that often done?” asked Mrs. Granville, surprised.

“Yes, I feel sure of it. I remember one evening in the city listening to a conversation between two coachmen employed in private families. They were boasting of the amount of their commissions obtained from blacksmiths, dealers in hay and oats, and so on.”

“But that is dishonest,” said the old lady, indignantly.

“They don’t look upon it in that way,” answered Paul.

“And do you agree with them?” asked the old lady, half suspiciously.

“No, I don’t,” answered Paul, promptly. “I think they ought to be satisfied with their wages.”

“You are right. As for Mrs. Mercer and Frost, they are paid more than most employers would pay, for I am rich, and, thank Heaven, not mean.”

“Don’t condemn them without feeling certain,” said Paul; “I may be wrong in their case.”

“I won’t feel satisfied until I have ferreted the matter out,” said Mrs. Granville. She was very good and liberal, but any attempt at imposition made her very angry.

“How will you find out?”

“You will see.”

The old lady relapsed into silence, and was evidently busy with her thoughts. When she reached home, she called Paul’s services into requisition.

“Paul,” she said, “open the drawer of my bureau—the upper drawer—and take out a file of bills you will find in the left hand corner.”

Paul did so.

“They are Mr. Talbot’s bills.”

Mr. Talbot was the grocer whose store she had left.

“Now we will compare the bills with the prices I heard being charged to the customers who were being waited on in the store.”

This she did with Paul’s help.

The result was that she found herself charged two cents a pound extra on sugar, five cents on butter, three cents on cheese, five cents each on tea and coffee, and so on. Besides she found that excessive quantities of each had been bought, more than three persons could possibly have consumed. What became of the surplus, unless it was thrown away, she could not possibly divine. Of course the housekeeper’s commission increased with increased sales. The real explanation, however, was that Mrs. Mercer had a widowed sister living in the next town. She often called on Mrs. Mercer, and never went away without a liberal supply of groceries, taken from the private stores of Mrs. Granville.

This the old lady did not learn till afterwards.

If Mrs. Mercer had known in what way her mistress and Paul were engaged, she would have quaked with apprehension, but of this she had no suspicions.

The next afternoon Mrs. Granville drove over once more to Mr. Talbot’s store, and asked for a private interview with him.

“Certainly, ma’am,” said the unsuspecting grocer, obsequiously.

“Why is it, Mr. Talbot,” asked the old lady, coming straight to the point, “that you charge me higher prices than you do to your other customers?”

“What makes you think I do?” stammered the grocer.

“I’ll tell you. Yesterday I was present when some of your customers were buying butter, sugar, and other articles. I noted the prices, and then went home and examined my bills. I find you charge me from two to five cents a pound more than to others. Tell me frankly why this is, and I may overlook it.”

“I don’t make any more profit out of you than out of them,” said the grocer.

“But how is this—you charge me more?”

“The extra charge does not go into my pocket.”

“I suspected as much. Into whose then?”

“If I must tell you, it is Mrs. Mercer’s. It is the only condition on which she gives me your trade.”

“Thank you; it is right that I should know.”

“Shall you speak to Mrs. Mercer about this when you get home?” asked Paul, as they were driving homeward.

“Not immediately. I want to observe her a little more. It is a shock to find that one to whom I have been kind for so many years has deceived me so basely.”

Meanwhile Mrs. Mercer, who was becoming more and more jealous of Paul, was arranging a scheme to injure him with Mrs. Granville.