CHAPTER XIII.
THE WIDOW.
'Whose grand groom is that, half afraid to ride through the yard?' asked Mr Prothero, as he and his son Owen were standing by the big wheat-mow, awaiting the arrival of a load of corn.
'I'll go and see what he wants,' said Owen, and off he went.
He returned, bearing a note for his father.
'He says he is Mr Griffith Jenkins's groom, and waits for an answer. Howel doesn't do the thing by halves anyhow.'
'Mr Griffith Jackanapes!' said the farmer, breaking the seal of the note hastily, and reading it.
Owen watched his countenance assume an angry expression, and then heard him utter a very broad Welsh oath.
'Tell that feller there's no answer,' said Mr Prothero.