fied at the remembrance of her husband.

'My good people, I don't know what to advise,' she said at last.

'She don't want to laive Carrmanthinshire, my leddy.'

'We'll be ruined intirely if we stop till she's cured, yer leddyship!'

'Niver a frind in the worrld, yer honour.'

'Her mother and father, sisthers and brothers, all dead of the faver
and the famine.'

'Nobody left but her relations in Carrmarrthinshire, and, maybe, they're
all dead and buried, yer honour's glory.'

'And what'll we do wid her, poor sowl?'

Mrs Prothero was looking compassionately on the poor girl, whilst
sentence upon sentence was poured into her ear; and as the death of her
relation was mentioned, she fancied she perceived a movement in her
seemingly impassive features. She opened her eyes, and looked at Mrs
Prothero, who went to her, and seeing her lips move, knelt down by her
side.

'Let them go, and send me to the workhouse, if you please, my lady,' she
murmured.

Mrs Prothero once more left the barn, promising to return shortly, and,
with trembling steps, again sought the apartment where her lord and
master was reposing. A very decided snore met her ear. She stood by the
bedside, and looked at the tassel, which was the only portion visible of
her better half. She sat down on a chair; she got up again; she fussed
about the room; she even opened the drawers and took out the Sunday
attire of that Somnus before her. But nothing she could do would arouse
him.

At last she gently touched the face. A louder snore was the only reply.
She gave a nervous push to the shoulder, and whispered into the
bed-clothes, 'My dear.'

'Well, what now?' growled the justly irritated sleeper.

'My dear, I am very sorry, but the poor girl is too ill to move, and I
really don't know what is to be done.'

'Upon my very deed, if you are not enough to provoke a saint!' broke out
Mr Prothero, now fairly sitting up in bed. 'If you will encourage
vagrants, get rid of 'em, and don't bother me. I'll tell you what it is,
Mrs Prothero, if all of 'em are not off the farm before I'm up, I'll
give 'em such a bit of my mind as 'll keep 'em away for the future; see
if I don't.'

Mrs Prothero saw that her husband was redder in the face than usual, and
she had a very great dread of putting him in a passion; still she
ventured one word more very meekly.

'But the girl, David?'

'What's the girl to you or me! we've a girl of our own, and half-a-dozen
servant gi