ll 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?'

Still Netta was silent.

'He may reform, you know,' suggested Mrs Jonathan, 'and then you may be
allowed to marry,'

'No chance of that,' roared Mr Prothero, advancing towards Netta, taking
her by the arm, and looking as if a few more of her rejoinders would
bring her a good shaking. 'Do you mean to promise, miss?'

'Father, you're hurting me,' said Netta petulantly. 'You needn't pinch
me so.'

Mr Prothero relaxed his hold. He doated on this obstinate, pretty,
wilful child of his--the only girl, and whose temper was the very
facsimile of his own.

'It's you're hurting me most, Netta, by rushing into certain misery.
Will you promise?'

Again he took hold of the arm.

'One would think you were a Papist, father, and this the Inquisition,'
said Netta, growing learned under the torture of her father's grasp,

'Well said, Netta,' broke in Mr Jonathan, aroused by any allusion to any
subject out of the present. 'A cruel court that perhaps more properly
called Jesuitical than Papistical.'

Mr Prothero gave Netta a slight shake, which shook more passion into
both of them, and frightened Mrs Prothero.

'Once for all, Netta, will you promise to give up that scamp of a cousin
of yours, Howel Jenkins?' roared the father.

'I won't promise anything at all,' replied Netta doggedly; and freeing
herself from her father, she ran to her uncle as if for protection.

'You won't!' said Mr Prother