CHAPTER XLV.
THE BETROTHED.
Owen found Gladys in the dairy with his mother and Minette. She had a candle in one hand, lighting Mrs Prothero, whilst she was looking at the fresh milk just put into the pans; Minette held the other.
'All right, Gladys! all right! Father has consented!' cried Owen, literally tumbling down the passage between the milk-pans.
Down went a splendid tin of milk right over Minette. Owen didn't mind. His arm was round Gladys' waist, and the candle stowed away somewhere, before any one knew what he was about. Mother and niece saw the long, fervent embrace to which Gladys yielded; but Owen didn't mind that. If all the servants, domestic and otherwise, had been there, he wouldn't have cared.
'Oh, Mr Owen!' said Gladys.
'Oh, Mrs. Owen,' said he.
'Mother, she is mine and yours now for ever!' he continued, releasing Gladys somewhat from his firm clasp. 'Father has given her to me. I needn't ask you. We will live all together. I will herd the cows, and she shall milk them.'
'Come into the kitchen, Owen,' said Mrs Prothero, utterly astonished.
'Uncle, you have wet me all over,' sighed Minette.