he modified it into
'Don't be such a silly little puss, but dry your eyes, and come and make
yourself agreeable to our first visitors. _Ours,_ Netta dear.'

Netta did as she was bid, and in a short time was at the head of the
table, on which a wedding-breakfast had been duly placed, according to
the general rules laid down for such occasions. Howel had given _carte
blanche_ to a fashionable confectioner, and everything was as it should
be for the quiet and private marriage of a man of large fortune. The
cake was splendidly ornamented, the champagne iced, and the other viands
and wines in keeping with them; the hired waiters vied with Sir John's
servants in propriety of demeanour, and Howel's page was as pompous as
pages generally are.

All Netta's pride and ambition returned when she saw herself mistress at
a table more luxuriously spread than that of Mr Gwynne, and she soon
began to enjoy her new dignity very much.

'I am to have a French maid when I get to Paris,' she said to Miss
Simpson. 'Howel does not like to take one with us, and we shall form our
establishment when we return.'

Howel laughed in his sleeve when he heard this: he managed to hear every
word that Netta uttered, and gave her an approving glance; he also saw
that his friends, Captain Dancy and Mr Horatio Simpson, greatly admired
his beautiful young wife, and little cousin Netta rose in his,
estimation.

'We shall soon meet in Paris, I hope,' said Captain Dancy. 'Simpson and
I are going to run over next week. I should like to assist in showing
you some of the lions, Mrs Howel Jenkins,'

'Lions! name o' goodness don't tak' her to see them!' exclaims Mrs
Jenkins, now put off her guard by fear.

'Ah! you have not that Welsh figure; it means--' began Miss Simpson, but
she was interrupted by Mr Simpson proposing the health of the bride and
bridegroom.

The breakfast went off very well, and the champagne went round only too
often; ladies as well as gentlemen were flushed by this exhilarating
beverage, and Mrs Griffith Jenkins was beginning to be very voluble on
the subject of 'my son Howels,' when that gentleman gave her a look that
silenced her, and that reminded Netta that he had told her to look at
Lady Simpson when it was time for her to put on her travelling-dress.

The ladies went to their retiring-room, whilst the gentlemen drank more
champagne, and arranged various Parisian amusements.

It was understood that, as Howel had no friends to l