'Netta, let me in, I have something to say to you,'
No reply, but a passionate sobbing audible.
'Netta, dear Netta, I am so sorry for you. Let me in.'
He tried the door, but it was locked.
'Netta, if you don't let me in I'll go and fetch mother directly. One, two, three, and, now, open the door, I'm going. One, two, three, and away!'
He walked down the passage, and heard the door opened behind him.
'Owen, come here, I will let you in,'
'There's a good little sister.'
'Don't palaver me, sir,' burst forth Netta, as soon as her door was closed. 'You are all unfeeling, unnatural, cruel, selfish, hard-hearted heathens! You don't care for me or Howel any more than as if we were strangers. Father don't mind what he drives me to, and mother cares more for that Irish beggar than for me—I know she does. I did think you would be our friend, and now you are as stiff and unfeeling as Rowland. Seure you are,'
'Why, if I was a parson like Rowland, I'd marry you to-morrow.'