This was said with much hesitation.

’Very well, then; if you will try to-morrow we shall be able to judge what you can do.’

‘She don’t look strong enough to bind the sheaves,’ said Owen.

‘I will try, sir, if you please,’ said Gladys.

‘What is the name of the friends you are seeking?’ asked Owen with a glance at his sister.

‘Jones, sir,’ replied Gladys, again looking at Owen.

‘Perhaps there is a David in the family?’ asked Owen.

‘I believe that my grandfather’s name was David,’ was the reply.

’Now, if you walk through Carmarthenshire, and just ask every one you meet if they know David Jones, I am sure you would find him.  It is astonishing what a powerful name David Jones is.  I know a Rev. David Jones very well? a clergyman too—­’

’Oh! if you could only tell me where to find him.  I would go anywhere for my poor mother’s sake!’

The girl clasped her hands and looked imploringly at Owen.  He was silenced by the appeal of the eyes he did not believe in.  Mrs Prothero glanced at him reproachfully, and said,—­

’It is such a common Welsh name that I am afraid it would be no guide to you, unless you would remember the place where he lived.’

‘I daresay it began with Llan,’ broke in Owen.

‘I am almost sure it did,’ said Gladys; ’but mother never liked to talk of the place,’

’What do you say, mother, to writing to the Rev. David Jones, Llan., etc., Carmarthenshire?’

Netta laughed aloud; she could not help it; whilst Gladys again looked upon the ground.

‘Owen,’ whispered Mrs Prothero, taking her son’s arm and leading him away, ‘what is a joke to you is death to her, remember that.’

’There, don’t be angry, mother; I will help her to do her work to-morrow.’

’He was as good as his word, and the following day resolutely kept near the poor, timid girl, aiding her to bind up the full-eared corn, and carrying it himself for her to the mows, into which they were hastily forming the sheaves for fear of rain.  He could not resist occasionally alluding to Mr David Jones, but receiving no encouragement to carry out the jest, and finding her as silent and shy as a frightened child, he gave up the subject, and with it all attempt at conversation.  He declared afterwards that she worked like a slave, and knew all about harvesting as well as anybody, only she was not strong, and that she was the dullest Irish woman he ever saw in his life, since even the beggars had a bit of fun in them.  Indeed he didn’t believe her to be Irish, or credit a word of her story; but, as to beauty, he began to agree with his mother, for if she had only a colour she would be as pretty a girl, with as graceful a figure, as anybody need wish to see.

The farmer declared that she had well earned her supper; and that if mother thought she would do, she might keep her instead of Betty, after Hollantide; the said Betty having signified her intention of getting married at the matrimonial season of the year.  Mrs Prothero said she would think it over, but she was afraid she was not strong enough for hard farm service.  It was evident that Gladys had taken a step into the kind heart of the worthy farmer.