All eyes were turned on Gladys as she came into the room again, but as hers were always fixed on what she was carrying, or on her mistress, she was not aware of the sudden attention she excited.
'Irish beggars!' muttered Netta.
'One of mother's godsends,' said Mr Prothero.
'What a beautiful piece of snow,' thought Owen.
After tea Mr Prothero invited Mrs Jenkins to go and see his fine fat cattle. The pair went together, leaving an anxious trio behind them.
Farmer Prothero was a man of few words when his mind was made up, and was not long in beginning the subject each had at heart.
'I'm sorry, cousin 'Lizabeth, that I can't let Netta marry just now. She's too young, and Howel isn't the lad to study her.'
'Oh! but you can't be knowing, David Prothero, how study he is since his poor father's death.'
'Then let him wait two years, and if he is downright well-conducted, then he may have Netta.'
'Upon my deet! he as can be marrying Miss Rice Rice or any young lady in the country! Mighty condescent, Mr Prothero!'