came into the
parlour, as became one about to meet a grand lady.

'How d'ye do, cousin 'Lizabeth? Glad to see you looking so well; welcome
to Glanyravon.'

They shook hands, and as Mrs Jenkins made rather a grand attempt at a
curtsey, Owen looked at Netta, and showed his white teeth; but Netta was
as grave as a judge.

Mr Prothero was as much struck with the improvement in the widow's
appearance as his son.

'Why, I declare, cousin 'Lizabeth, you look ten years younger than you
did when I saw you last. Do you mind when we two used to go nutting
together? If 'twasn't for my good 'ooman there--'

'I was just saying so, father,' interrupted Owen; 'don't you think
Davies, Pennycoed--'

'I am not having no intentions of marrying again,' simpered the widow;
'wanst is enough. My poor Griffey.'

'Quite right, cousin 'Lizabeth, wan Griffey is enough, in all
conscience.'

The best tea things were duly arranged; cakes hot from the oven
buttered; the best green tea put into the best teapot, and all proper
honour done to Mrs Jenkins, from which she augured well for her Howels.

As Shanno was very busy and very dirty, Mrs Prothero, during her
preparations in the kitchen, was at a loss to know who was to wait if
anything was wanted. Gladys chanced to be there, and said modestly,--

'If I could do, ma'am, I would soon make myself neat in Miss Prothero's
gown; and if I might just take in the tray instead of you.'

'Thank you, Gladys, I am sure you will do,' and Gladys was installed.

'There is nothing that girl cannot do,' thought Mrs Prothero, as she
arranged everything on the tea-table as neatly and properly as Mrs
Prothero could have done herself.

'What a tidy girl you have!' said Mrs Jenkins. 'Do she mean to be
staying over Hollantide? I am wanting a servant.'

All eyes were turned on Gladys as she came into the room again, but as
hers were always fixed on what she was carrying, or on her mistress, she
was not aware of the sudden attention she excited.

'Irish beggars!' muttered Netta.

'One of mother's godsends,' said Mr Prothero.

'What a beautiful piece of snow,' thought Owen.

After tea Mr Prothero invited Mrs Jenkins to go and see his fine fat
cattle. The pair went together, leaving an anxious trio behind them.

Farmer Prothero was a man of few words when his mind was made up, and
was not long in beginning the subject each had at heart.

'I'm sorry, cousin 'Lizabeth, that I can't let Netta marry just