’I suppose that depends upon whether I choose to think of him.  They say he is coming down soon, and that he will be the grandest man in the county.’

What Netta had heard rumoured came to pass in due time, Mr Howel Jenkins did come from London, and established himself in the best hotel of his native town, throwing out hints as to the probability of his taking a certain beautiful park in the neighbourhood.  He was soon supplied with the best horses, dogs, and general appointments of any man in the county; and being really clever, handsome, and sufficiently gentleman like, had made his way into society that had hitherto been closed to him.  Like Prince Hal, he eschewed most of his former companions and appeared to be beginning life anew, in a new world.  The country rang with rumours of his enormous wealth, which, considerable as it was, report nearly doubled.  Indeed he himself scarcely knew what he was worth, as he was continually finding memorandums of moneys out at high interest, of which his father had not chosen to speak to Rowland, but which his carefully secreted books and papers proved, as well as the knowledge of Mr Rice Rice, who had been his attorney.

In the course of the autumn the Irish girl was quite convalescent and, although not strong, had recovered from the fever, and was regaining some degree of health.  As she was such a clever sempstress, even Netta did not object to a proposal made by Mrs Prothero, that she should remain as a work-girl, at least until Owen’s wardrobe was in a decent condition; and she was accordingly installed in a small room, half lumber-room, half work-room, as shirt-maker in ordinary to the son and heir.  He was restored to his own bedroom, and, together, with his father kept at a distance from the bone of contention.

However, adverse elements cannot always be kept apart, and one day when Mrs Prothero was sitting stitching wrist-bands with Gladys, her better half made his appearance suddenly in the room.

‘Mother, I have been hunting you out all over the house,’ he exclaimed?  ’I have torn the sleeve of my coat from top to bottom in that confounded hedge.’

As he took off his coat and displayed the tear, he perceived Gladys, who had risen from her work, and curtseyed very timidly and profoundly.  Mr Prothero had almost forgotten the Irish beggar, and certainly did not suppose the tidy-looking, pale, tall girl before him to be her.

’Oh, young ’ooman, I daresay you can do this job for me.  You’ve got a new manty-maker, mother; where’s Jane Morris, name o’ goodness?’

‘We’re only making shirts for Owen, father,’ replied the wife meekly, dreading an outburst.

Gladys took up the coat and was instantly engaged in mending it, whilst Mr Prothero produced a letter just received from Rowland.

’There, my dear, now you ought to be satisfied, and I am sure Mrs Jonathan will be as proud as Punch.  Rowland has been ordained by the Bishop of London himself, and “passed a very good examination,” or whatever they call it.  He has taken lodgings up in London, and preached his first sermon in a great church that ’ould hold three of ours.  He has dined with the rector, and been to call on Sir Philip Payne Perry,—­the three green peas as Owen calls him—­and I wonder what even Mrs Jonathan ‘ould desire more?’