ng upon herself a risk and encumbrance that
should be wholly my mother's. She has nothing to do with the girl,
beyond showing her great kindness.'

'Really, Mr Rowland Prothero,' began Miss Gwynne, drawing herself up to
her fullest height, 'I wish you would allow me to manage my own
affairs.'

'Yes, yes, Rowland. What, name o' goodness, have you to do with Miss
Gwynne? I'm ashamed of the boy. I really beg your pardon, miss, but I
believe he's so set up by having a chance of going to London, that he
don't know whether he stands on his head or his heels. Go you away,
Rowland, directly. I won't have you interfaring with me.'

Miss Gwynne could not help laughing as she saw Rowland's sense of duty
struggle with his pride at this authoritative mandate; but she was very
much surprised to see him bow politely to her and walk away. She
wondered whether anything on earth could have induced her to obey a
similar order.

She followed Mr Prothero downstairs and made herself so agreeable to him
and Mrs Jonathan, that they quite forgot Mrs Prothero's absence, until
the sudden return of that good woman set all matters right, and enabled
Miss Gwynne to leave the farm.

CHAPTER VI.

THE MISER'S WIFE.

'I must have money,' said Howel Jenkins as he sat alone with his mother
in their little parlour, the evening after Mrs Prothero had left them.

'My dear, there will be plenty when we can find it, be you sure of that.
I do know well enough that your poor father was having a chest full,
only he was keeping his door locked and barred so that I couldn't see
him at it.'

'But surely, mother, you must have some idea where my father kept his
gold. If I don't pay a man in London by tomorrow's post, I shall be in
jail before a week is over my head.'

'Mercy! Howel, bach! Now don't you be spending the mint o' money that'll
be coming to you, there's a good boy, before you do know what it is.
Remember Netta! You'll be as grand as any of 'em now, if you do only
begin right, and are being study and persevaring, and sticking to your
business. I 'ouldn't wonder if you was to be a councillor some day. Only
to think of me, mother of Councillor Jenkins! You may be looking higher
than Netta, and be marrying a real lady, and be riding in your coach and
four, and be dining with my Lord Single ton, and be in the London
papers; and I 'ouldn't wonder if you was to be visiting the Queen and
Prince Albert again, and behaving your picture take