'Uncle must have a flower too, mamma,' said Minette, jumping up, and taking him a red geranium. 'Let me put it into your button-hole, it smells so sweet.'
Rowland smiled and coloured as that sprig of red geranium from Glanyravon was placed in his coat by his little niece, and in spite of his better resolutions, when he went home, it was transferred to a glass, and treasured as long as imagination could fancy it a flower.
After breakfast, Gladys asked Netta if Minette might go with her to see Miss Gwynne, as she was obliged to leave for a short time.
'Gladys, you are going away, and would carry off my child, I know you are,' said Netta, 'all, all! nobody cares what becomes of me. Why can I not die?'
Minette's arms were round her mother's neck in a moment.
'I will stay till you return, Gladys,' said Rowland.
'She will not come back if once she goes,' repeated Netta; 'none of them do, except you, Rowland. Owen never did—mother never did—Howel—oh! he will! he will!'
'They will both return, dear Netta, only let Minette go.'
'No, uncle, I won't leave mamma, never—never!'
Gladys went away alone. Sarah came to clear the breakfast things, and when Netta was seated in her old armchair, Rowland again began to urge her to leave the lodgings she was in, and either come to his, or accept an invitation that he brought her from Mrs Jones to go to her house.