'Never mind. Come by the fire and dry yourself.'
They all went into the kitchen, which was empty. There, by the blazing wood fire, Owen kissed Gladys and his mother and Minette, and Mrs Prothero kissed Gladys; and the women cried and Owen laughed. It was a long time before he could explain the real state of the case.
'You are quite sure you love me, Gladys? It is not gratitude, but love!' said Owen, looking into the pure, lustrous 'violets dropping dew,' that he had studied so long and so lovingly.
The answering glance and the quick blush were quite satisfactory.
'Then, will you come with me to father and Netta. We owe it all to her—poor dear Netta!'
'Please to wipe my frock first,' said Minette to her grandmother; 'and tell me if uncle is going to marry Gladys. I am so glad.'
The frock was wiped, and Owen took the child up in his arms, and told her to love her new aunt better than ever.
'I can't love her better, uncle,' was the simple assurance of the little girl.
'Nor can I, even as my daughter,' said Mrs Prothero, pressing the hand she held with a mother's love.
They all went to the parlour, where Mr Prothero and Netta were sitting, quite silent, by the fire-light.