eave behind him for
the final settlement of lodgings and the like, his guests were to depart
before he and his bride left. They accordingly took their leave as soon
as Netta reappeared in fashionable travelling costume. No sooner were
they fairly gone than Howel set to work to pay and arrange; this done,
he called Netta to look at their wedding cards. There were a great
number directed to different friends, some to acquaintances in their old
neighbourhood, and one to David Prothero, Esq., Glanyravon.

Netta quailed but said nothing.

'Now let me read you this, Netta? it is for the _Welshman,_ and every
one will see it:--"On the 16th instant, at St James's Church,
Piccadilly, London, Howel Jenkins, Esq., of our county, was married to
Miss Prothero, daughter of D. Prothero, Esq., of Glanyravon. Sir John
Simpson gave away the lovely bride, and the wedding-breakfast was
attended by a select, but fashionable party of friends."'

'Father will see that,' said Netta; 'he will be in such a passion.'

'Serve him right,' replied Howel, and called the page and sent the
letters to the post.

The carriage was at the door, and the luggage in. Mrs Griffith Jenkins
was busily engaged in packing up the cake and a spare bottle of
champagne, together with a few other confections' in a stray hamper.

'Make haste, mother,' cried Howel.

'Stop you, Howel, bach! in a minute. We must be wishing you joy at home;
and I should like to be sending cousin Prothero some of this grand
cake.'

At last Mrs Jenkins and her hamper were ready, and the trio started for
the Paddington Station.

When they arrived there Howel took a second-class ticket for his mother
as far as Swansea, telling her to take a first-class from that place
home. She was to sleep with some friends at Swansea.

'We mustn't waste money, mother.'

'Treue for you, Howel.'

'Tell everybody at home of the grand wedding.'

'Don't be afraid of that.'

When Howel had seen his mother off, he and Netta drove to their station,
and, per first-class carriage, with page in second, steamed off to
Folkestone, which was to be the first stage of their life-journey.

CHAPTER XVI.

THE SERVANT.

We must now leave Netta and her husband for a time, and return to the
morning when Netta left her home to go forth in search of a new one.

The breakfast-table was spread at the farm, and all were assembled
except Netta.

'Owen, go and call Netta,' said Mr Prothero, seating hi