‘Perhaps you could invite Lady Mary, and Miss Nugent to meet them?’

’I don’t think they would like it.  They would not object to the two clergymen, because, as Lady Mary says, ’You see, my dear, the cloth is a passport to all grades of society;’ but they would not approve of Netta.  That is to say, Lady Mary would think herself insulted if we introduced her sweet Wilhelmina to a farmer’s daughter.’

’She is a very superior woman, my love, and understands etiquette, and all that sort of thing, better than any one I ever met.’

’She seems to me to understand her own interests, papa, as well as most people.  But I will tell her that Sir Hugh and the Protheros are coming, and that we have asked Netta, so she can accept or decline as she likes.’

’Do you think it wise, my dear, to put yourself so much on a level with Miss Prothero, as to invite her?’

’Oh! she understands how we are very well.  It will be a source of pride and satisfaction to her, without making her presume more than before; and the vicar and his lady will like the attention.’

‘I dread the vicar.  His genealogies are too much for me.’

’Oh, I can put up with the vicar’s antiquities, but not with the young vicar’s pedantic Oxonianism.  He does think so well of himself, and quite rules every one at home.’

‘Oh! that is very fatiguing, I should think.’

’I wish he would fall in love with Miss Nugent, and she with him, and carry off her forty-thousand pounds.  She is silly enough for anything, and it would be such a downfall to her mother’s pride.’

’Her mother is much too careful, my dear, and by far too superior a woman.  And Miss Wilhelmina is very accomplished and all that sort of thing, you know, and likely to make a fine match.  She is very pretty, too.’

’Yes; she and Netta Prothero would run in harness.  Pretty, silly, rather affected, and having drawn each four or five drawings, and learnt six tunes on the piano.  Only the one is more fashionable than the other.  Do you know, papa, Miss Nugent can play the Irish and Scotch quadrilles, and Netta ‘Ar hydy Nos,’ with small variations.  We will have a concert; you know I have asked the Rice Rices?’

’Very well, my dear.  Now I think I will read a sermon to the servants, so just ring the bell.’

CHAPTER IV.

The miser.

Whilst Mr Gwynne is reading his sermon, and Mrs Prothero is nursing the mendicant Gladys, an event is passing in the neighbouring country-town, involving matters of interest to her, and those belonging to her.  In a small bedroom over a little huckster’s shop, an old man lies dangerously ill.  By his side is seated a middle-aged woman watching.  In a dark corner, behind the bed, stands a man, who is so deep in shadow that you scarcely know whether he is young or old.

The room is small and shabby, and contains apparently few comforts for one nearly approaching his last hour.