A large tent was erected in front of the house, ornamented with flowers, wreaths of evergreens, devices, and mottoes.  The most conspicuous of these was in Welsh, and above Mr Gwynne’s seat at the head of the long table.  It was composed of wheat-ears and oak-leaves, and contained the words, ‘May God bless Gwynne of Glanyravon and his daughter.’  Mr Gwynne felt almost uncomfortable in seating himself beneath such a sentence, but having consented for the first time in his life, and, he earnestly hoped, for the last, to become a hero, he knew he must go through with it.  Accordingly, with Colonel Vaughan on his left, and Lady Mary Nugent on his right hand he prepared to do the honours of a most substantial feast to his tenantry, their wives and children.  When every one was seated Rowland said grace, and they began the feast con amore.  They were as merry and happy a party as could be assembled on a fine autumn day.  Every one was in good humour, and thoroughly enjoyed the treat.  As soon as they had feasted enough, they proceeded to give toasts, which were enthusiastically drunk in good Welsh ale.

Mr Gwynne proposed the health of the Queen and royal family.  Sir Hugh proposed Mr Gwynne and his daughter, the kind and liberal donors of the feast, in a hearty speech, which all understood.  Mr Gwynne did his best to return thanks, but found that he could not get much beyond,—­’I feel most grateful for the honour you have done me, but—­my feelings—­been—­and—­and—­all that sort of thing,’ at which point the cheers grew so deafening that he sat down quite overwhelmed, and wished himself in his library.

‘So very exciting, so complimentary, so touching,’ whispered Lady Mary Nugent to Mr Gwynne.

Rowland was again called upon to exert his eloquence in responding for the Church, which he did in a short, apt speech, duly applauded.

He, in return, proposed the army, coupled with Colonel Vaughan, who—­and, he said, he knew he was expressing the thoughts of all present—­was heartily welcomed home, and earnestly entreated to remain in his native country.

Colonel Vaughan delighted every one by a most eloquent response.  ’Such a grand gentleman, but so humble,’ was the general opinion of him.  As for the ladies, they were all in love with him.  Lady Mary Nugent, Freda, Miss Nugent—­they had never seen so charming a man.  And he was so universally gallant that he might have been in love with them all in return.  He gave the ‘Welsh Yeomanry,’ for whom Mr Prothero returned thanks, and right well he did it; giving the colonel to understand in something more than a hint, that if he wished the farmers and farming to improve, he, and other absent landlords, must come and live on their property as Mr Gwynne did, and then there would be more wealth and prosperity, and more ‘harvest homes.’

And so, with various other toasts, including the vicar and his lady, for whom Owen had to return thanks, the afternoon wore on.  The children were playing at games in the Park, and by degrees the elders joined them.