‘Probably so,’ replied Owen.

‘Where are you going?  We shall miss you dreadfully,’ said Madame Duvet, with an entreating glance.

‘I fear we must all leave on Tuesday or Wednesday,’ said Miss Simpson:  ’at least if you still intend going to London with us, Madame Duvet.  I have had a letter from home, positively refusing any further extension of leave, and my brother promises to return with me.’

‘We may as well all go together, then,’ said Captain Dancy, ’as I must be in town this week; and Deep goes up on Tuesday.  When are you coming, Jenkins?’

’Only in time for Ascot.  I cannot leave home until to-morrow week, and shall probably only remain the race week.  Mrs Jenkins is not going up, and I shall not like to leave her long alone.  Owen, you must come over and see her when I am away.’

’I think you had better stay at home, Howel.  You will run less risk in taking care of Netta than you will at Ascot.’

‘Thanks for your advice, but I know my own business best.’

’I beg your pardon, Howel, I meant no offence.  But although I am going home, I don’t know how long I may stay there.  Perhaps shall be off to sea in a few days.’

‘I will use your own words,’ said Madame Duvet, ’and say better stay at home, and take care of—­let me see—­yourself, I suppose.  You will run less risk than at sea.’

Owen laughed, and said he would not reply in Howel’s words, as he was not sure that he knew his own business best.  But he did not add that he should like to take care of Madame Duvet as she wished him to do.

Neither did that afternoon and evening at Abertewey improve Owen’s opinion of its inmates.  French novels and betting-books were their sermons, and he longed to take his poor little sister Netta away from the contamination of such society.  But she came downstairs after luncheon was over, gay and bright in dress and person, and ready for any amount of frivolity.  Her countenance clouded over, when she heard how soon the party was to be broken up; but when Howel assured her he should be only a week absent, and that he would take her to town in June, it cleared again.

Owen took his leave of Abertewey the following morning.  Netta whispered ‘Give my love to mother,’ and had a very large tear in her black eye, as he walked away, the remembrance of which often haunted him in after days.  Howel told him to come again whenever he liked, and accompanied him as far as the lodge on his homeward journey.

When he reached Glanyravon, he found his mother prepared to receive him with joyful love.  His father came in soon after his return, and greeted him as he expected, with a very wrathful lecture, which he bore patiently, and to which he replied as follows:—­

’Thank you, father; I am much obliged to you for all your abuse, but I don’t think I deserve it.  As I am of age, and a few years past that period, you must let me have a will of my own.’