ce, and began my story. She
ordered me off the premises instantly as a vagrant. I went round to the
back door and got a penny a-piece from the servants, who were quite
delighted. Then I met uncle, and telling him that I had a wonderful box
of antiques to exhibit, he gave me sixpence, and with great curiosity
poked his proboscis against the glass. It was worth something to see
him. I at once put a picture of Stonehenge, and afterwards one of
Herculaneum into the box, that I had bought on purpose for his benefit.
I went through the history of the Druids, and managed a touch of Garn
Goch and the Welsh castles with a strong and masterly nasal, that so
delighted the worthy vicar, that he actually invited me in to see his
museum. I excused myself by saying that my wife was waiting for
me--mother, that was my only fib, I assure you--and hastened away, lest
in his delight at finding an itinerant archaeologist, he should ask my
wife to see his museum as well. The rest of my adventures you had the
honour and glory of sharing, so I must beg to say they are at an end.
And now I am really and truly and soberly come to settle at home for the
remainder of my days, and to become a farmer in good earnest if father
will take me into partnership. The two things I like best in the world
are, the rolling sea by moonlight and a field of golden corn in broad
sunshine, of a fine day in autumn.'

'Oh, you naughty boy!' cried Netta, as Owen ended his story.

'A fine sturdy farmer you would make,' said Mr Prothero, trying to
stifle a very hearty fit of laughter, that burst out at last in spite of
himself. 'I'm glad you took in brother Jonathan, or he'd have had the
laugh against me.'

Mrs Prothero had a tear in her eye as she smiled sadly, and shook her
head at the darling son who had caused her nothing but love and grief
since he was born; but the tear was soon kissed away, and the smile
turned into a cheerful one by that son's merry lips.

CHAPTER XII.

THE SEMPSTRESS.

Owen Prothero, like his sister Netta, had been very much spoilt by his
father during his childhood and boyhood. Indeed it would have been
difficult not to have spoilt him. Handsome in person, and frank in
manners, he was a general favourite. His uncle, the vicar, quite
idolised him, and would have lavished a fortune on his education had he
been of a studious nature. His mother, alone, conscious of his many
faults, strove to correct them, and to counterbalance