of servants of a lower grade, to 'bettering
himself,' wisely made her a matron. Having no children of their own,
they lavished their affections on their nephews and niece, and their
money on their education.

'My dear Rowland,' said Mrs Jonathan, 'I think I have agreeable news for
you. I wrote to my cousin, Sir Philip Payne Perry, whose wife's brother
is, as you know, high in the church, and received this answer.'

She put a letter into Rowland's hands, and watched his countenance as he
read it.

'My dear aunt, how very good of you!' exclaimed Rowland; 'the very
thing I wished for. Oh, if I can only get it, I shall be quite happy. A
curacy in London, father! Just read this. Sir Philip thinks I might not
like it in the heart of the city, but that is really what I wish. Plenty
to do all the week long. Oh, aunt, how can I thank you enough?'

'By making every effort to advance yourself in life, and to rise in the
world, my dear nephew,' said Mrs Jonathan.

'What do you think, uncle?' asked Rowland, turning to Mr Jonathan
Prothero, who was seated in the window, with a large book before him,
that he had brought from the carriage.

'He! what! what did you ask?'

'Only what you think of this London curacy that my aunt has been so kind
as to write about.'

'Me! I! Oh, capital! just the thing in my humble opinion. If you get it,
you will be able to go to the Museum, and look up the old genealogy we
were talking about. Do you know I have made a remarkable discovery about
Careg Cennin Castle. It was built--'

'Never mind, my dear, just now; we were talking of Rowland's curacy,'
interrupted Mrs Jonathan, who generally managed all business matters.

'To be sure, my dear, to be sure, you know best,' said Mr Jonathan
absently, resuming his book.

'For my part, sister,' said the farmer, 'I 'ould rather he had a curacy
in his own country, and so 'ould his mother; but he's so confoundedly
ambitious.'

'Aunt, won't you come upstairs and take off your things?' asked Netta,
interposing, for once in her life, at the right time.

'Thank you, my dear, I should be very glad,' and they accordingly
disappeared.

'Father,' began Rowland, as soon as they were gone, 'I think it right to
tell you, that we were obliged, out of sheer charity, to take that poor
Irish girl into the house. It was impossible to move her without risk of
instant death.'

'And upon my very deed, Rowland, if this isn't too bad,' cried the
farmer, stamping hi