Rowland did not know that Gladys had put on the identical print gown that Netta had given her years ago, and which she had kept carefully, in remembrance of her.  This and a plain cap transformed her into the Gladys of Netta’s recollection, from the Gladys of Miss Gwynne’s attiring.

Her heart beat almost as quickly as Netta’s as she entered her room, but she steadied her nerves and voice as she went up to Netta, curtseyed, and said quite naturally,—­

‘How do you do, Miss Netta?’

Netta put her hand to her brow, as if to clear her memory, and fixed her large bewildered eyes on Gladys.  Then she put out her hand, rather condescendingly, with something of the old attempt at superiority, and finally burst into tears.

The tears were so natural that Rowland and Gladys let them flow on; only the latter knelt down by poor Netta’s side, and taking her hands in hers, pressed them tenderly.  Netta threw her arms round Gladys’ neck and kissed her, and called her, ‘Gladys, Gladys, fach!’ and said, ’You will not leave me.’

And thus the once proud little Netta and the always humble Gladys clave to one another, as Naomi and Ruth.

Minette got off her uncle’s knee, and climbed up into the chair, and put her arms, too, round her mother’s neck, and began to cry with her.

Rowland’s emotion at this scene found vent in prayer.  Inwardly he asked that Gladys might be a comfort and support to his dear, wandering, forsaken sister.

When Netta’s emotion had worn itself out, Rowland prepared to go, promising to return early on the morrow.

He asked Netta if she would like him to offer up a few words of thanksgiving for their reunion before he left her, and when she assented they all knelt together in family prayer.  Eight full years had passed since Netta had so knelt before.

When Rowland had departed, Gladys asked Minette if she might put her to bed.  The child looked shyly at her at first, and then allowed her to undress her, and to take her to the close, gloomy bedroom.  It was so late, and the child was so tired, that her little head drooped in sleep even before she was undressed, and when Gladys laid her pale cheek on the pillow she slept soundly at once.  Then Gladys returned to the sitting-room, and found Netta at the door listening.

‘Hush! you had better go.  I think he is coming,’ she said.

Gladys withdrew for a moment, till the steps were no longer heard.  As long as Netta had been occupied with her brother and Gladys, she seemed to have forgotten the passing sounds, but when left alone she listened as before.

With some difficulty Gladys prevailed on her to go to bed.  Mrs Jones had given her night-lights, and a slight sleeping potion before she left home, upon the chance of their being wanted; and she put one of the former in the bedroom, and gave Netta the latter.  She sat by her side until she fell asleep, and then returned to the sitting-room, literally ‘to watch and pray.’