such as shooting, gardening, and motoring, it was more theoretical. To Sir Reginald and my lady he was quite indispensable, for he could repair almost anything, knew his own more particular business from A to Z, and was ready at any moment to shoulder any responsibility. Sir Reginald's keeper, gardener, and chauffeur were apt however to be a trifle less enthusiastic, Mr. Bisset's passion for expounding the principles of their professions sometimes exceeding his tact.
In person, he was an active, stoutly built man (though far too energetic to be fat), with blunt rounded features, eyes a little protruding, and sandy hair and a reddish complexion which made his age an unguessable secret. He might have been in the thirties or he might have been in the fifties.
"With regard to these ladies' bicycles, miss—" he began with a lecturer's air.
But by this time Cicely was also an expert in side-tracking her friend's theoretical essays.
"Oh, how clever of you!" she exclaimed rapturously. "It looks as good as ever!"
The interruption was too gratifying to offend.
"Better in some ways," he said complacently. "The principle of these things is"
"I did miss it this morning," she hurried on. "In fact I had to have quite a long walk. Luckily Mr. Cromarty of Stanesland gave me a lift coming home."
"Oh, indeed, miss? Stanesland gave ye a lift, did he? An interesting gentleman yon."
