‘You’re not Welsh, sir, I should say?’

’I was Welsh originally; but it would be difficult to make out my parish, as I have been wandering about for many years.’

‘A clergyman, sir?’

‘Yes, sir.’

The gentleman smiled, and thought the question savoured of American curiosity.

’I have a son a clergyman.  Perhaps you may have fallen in with him.  They tell me he’s a very promising young man.’

‘What is his name?’

‘Prothero, sir—­Rowland Prothero.’

’I do not know him personally, but I know him by reputation; he is curate of an old friend of mine, Mr Stephenson.’

’To be seure—­Rowly’s rector!  Allow me to shake hands with you, sir.  You’ll sleep at Glanyravon.’

’Certainly, if I shall not inconvenience you and your family.  Your daughter looks very ill and tired; perhaps it may—­’

’Not a bit, sir.  She’s not my daughter; she always looks as pale as moonlight, ’scept when she blushes up; she’ll see to a bed for a strange gentleman, and so’ll my missus.  To think of your knowing Mr Stephenson!’

’Yes, I saw him during my short stay in town, and he told me he had a capital curate, a countryman of mine.  A regular hard-working, useful parish priest, he called him; a good preacher besides!’

‘Well, mother will be pleased, won’t she, Gladys?’

This was said in the old good-humoured way, and Gladys brightened up as she answered,—­

‘Yes, sir, very.’

‘Are you ill?’ said the stranger, looking at Gladys with sudden interest.

‘No, sir, thank you; I am only rather tired,’ was the reply.

’Tired!  I should think so!  Why, she’s walked more than thirty miles, and ridden thirty in the last two days,’ said the farmer gruffly.

The stranger glanced again compassionately at Gladys, but merely said,—­

’She looks so pale that I fancied she was suddenly faint.  How long has Miss Hall been at Glanyravon?’

’Somewhere about two or three years now, I should say; but when she was teaching Miss Gwynne she was there a great many years.’

‘Is she in good health?  How does she look?  Is she happy?’

’If she was ill, sir, I don’t think any one ’ould know it, she’s so quiet and patient; but I think she’s pretty well, and she can’t help being happy, for she’s just the same as if she was at home with her father and sister.  Now she is a nice lady!  If all ’oomen were like her there ’ouldn’t be half the plague with ’em there is.  She’s quite content without having a lot of lovers after her, and running away, and making everybody in a fever.  Deet to goodness, my opinion is that the world ’ould go on a sight better without ’em.  What do you think, sir?  You must have plenty of experience as a clergyman, for all the ladies are pretty sharp after the cloth.’

The stranger laughed, and said he thought the world would be very disagreeable without the fair sex, and that he had no doubt Mr Prothero would find it so if they became suddenly extinct.