’I sha’n’t send for you to consult with again.  Mother, go and bring Netta here, and let us see what she has to say for herself.’

‘My dear Davy, would it not be better to speak to her privately?’

’Not a bit.  I can’t say a word when I am alone with her, but I could give her a bit of my mind when you are all present.  Why don’t you go, and not stand looking as if you was as much by the head as brother Jo.’

Poor Mrs Prothero perceived that her husband was determined to have Netta publicly reprimanded, so, much against her will, she left the room.  Rowland was preparing to follow, not liking the prospect of a scene, when his father peremptorily called him back.

’Stay you, sir.  If you was the better for going to Oxford, you’d try to teach your sister how to behave, instead of cutting off the moment you’re wanted.’

’I really do not think, father, that a public reproof is likely to make Netta change her mind.  You would do better to talk quietly to her.’

Here Mrs Prothero returned, followed by Netta, looking as sulky as she possibly could, and with the traces of tears on her face.  There was an awkward silence for a few seconds, during which both Mr Prothero and Netta were getting redder and redder, and their inner man correspondingly choleric.  At last the father began the strife.

‘Now, I say, Miss Netta,’ there was a pause for a few minutes.  ’Do you hear, miss?’

‘Yes, father, I hear very well,’ said Netta, and muttered to herself in continuation, ‘who could help it?’

’You hear very well—­I should think so.  You hear a good deal you’ve no business to listen to.  Do you mean to give up that scamp Howel?’

No reply.

’Now it’s no use for you to stand there and say nothing, for an answer I will have.’

‘I don’t think he’s a scamp,’ said Netta boldly.

Poor Mrs Prothero trembled, and looked imploringly at Netta.

‘My dear Netta, you should not contradict your father,’ said Mrs Jonathan, with a severe look.

‘You don’t think he’s a scamp.  Then you mean to have him, I suppose?’ said Mr Prothero.

’I didn’t say that, father.  But I don’t see why I may not speak to my own cousin.’

Every one was surprised at Netta’s answers.  Like her father, she could talk better before numbers.  She had done nothing but cry when her mother had reasoned with her.

’Very well, miss.  All I can say is, that if you meet him again I’ll—­I’ll—­I’ll—­’ the good farmer did not know what he would do.  He was not prepared to say.

‘He is gone to London, father,’

’Will you promise not to meet him any more, you good-for-nothing girl, you?  You most disobedient daughter!’

Again Netta was silent.

‘Will you promise your father, Netta,’ said Mrs Prothero, gently, ’not to meet Howel again, or have anything to say to him, without his consent?’