e.

Miss Gwynne overheard it, and answered for her father.

'He is a young man of great talent, very rich, very handsome, and has
had a miser for a father. Is not that the case Mr Rowland?'

'I--I--really, it is scarcely fair to appeal to me, as he is a
relation.'

'And do you never say a good word in favour of your relations?'

'I hope so, when they deserve it,' said Rowland resolutely, glancing at
his sister, who was biting her glove.

'If I may be allowed an opinion,' said Mrs Jonathan decidedly, also
glancing at poor Netta, 'I should say that Howel Jenkins was a complete
scapegrace. What he may yet turn out remains to be proved.'

'Well, that is putting an end to him at once,' said Miss Gwynne, 'and I
think we had better play his funeral dirge. Lady Mary, will you give us
'The Dead March in Saul,' or something appropriate? Never mind, Netta; I
daresay cousin Howel will turn out a great man by-and-by;' this last
clause was whispered to Netta, whilst the young hostess went towards a
grand piano that stood invitingly open, and begged Lady Mary Nugent to
give them some music.

That lady played some brilliant waltzes, after which, her daughter
accompanied her in the small bass of a duet.

'Pon my soul, that's a pretty girl, that little Prothero!' said Sir Hugh
Pryse to young Rice Rice. 'I never saw such a complexion in my life.
Roses and carnations are nothing to it.'

'Rather a vulgar style of beauty, I think,' said Mr Rice Rice, junior,
taking up an eyeglass, and finding some difficulty in fixing it in his
eye. He had lately discovered that he was nearsighted, to the great
grief of his mother, who, however, sometimes spoke of the sad fact in
the same tone that she used to speak of the Rice Rice, and Morgan of
Glanwilliam families. She herself belonged to the latter.

'I vow she's lovely!' cried the baronet, so emphatically that every one
in the room might have heard him. Most of the ladies, doubtless, did,
and appropriated the sentiment, but, by-and-by, Netta was triumphant, as
he went and sat by her, and complimented her in very audible terms.

She blushed and coquetted very respectably for a country damsel, and
wondered whether a poor baronet, or a wealthy miser's son would best
help her to humble the pride and condescension of the Nugents and the
Rice Rices.

Whilst Lady Mary Nugent was playing, Mr Gwynne very nearly went to
sleep, and Rowland Prothero, who liked nothing but chants, and a solemn
kind