Mr Simpson came home about six o'clock; and the whole party,
with the addition of Mr Rice Rice, assembled at dinner. Howel had
ordered his valet to see that 'Captain Prothero' was properly dressed;
and, accordingly, Owen was obliged to put on a smart waistcoat and tie
belonging to Howel, which greatly embellished his outer man, and gave
him increased favour in the eyes of Madame Duvet and Miss Simpson.

He was more astounded than ever when he saw his sister in her evening
costume.

'What do you think of her, Owen?' whispered Howel, as he stood literally
gazing at her before dinner.

'I can't exactly say,' was the reply; 'but she is no longer Netta
Prothero of the Farm.'

'I should imagine not!' said Howel. 'Pray don't let us talk of farms
here, Owen. I don't like conversation that smells of the shop.'

'Not even of the old place where we used to steal lollilops?' asked
Owen, maliciously.

Howel turned away for fear of being overheard, and devoted himself quite
as much to Madame Duvet, as Captain Dancy still did to Netta; and Owen
wondered on.

Again he looked at Netta, as she sat curled up on a sofa, a mere child
in appearance, but so pretty, in white, with some sort of
cherry-coloured ornaments for dress and head, that no one could possibly
have recognised her as the country belle of twelve months ago. 'Her own
mother would not know her!' thought Howel. 'Poor mother, she would
scarcely care for all this grandeur, though one can't help envying it a
little. I will be off to California, and come home and buy a place, and
see whether Gladys would not be as good a fine lady as Netta.'

The dinner was grand; the servants were grand; all was grand to Owen's
bewildered imagination. Madame Duvet made such very decided attempts to
talk to him, however, that he was obliged to cease wondering, and to
bring his usually versatile genius into play, in the light of all the
grandeur. He got on so well with the lady, that Howel wondered in his
turn, and after dinner told Owen that he verily believed if he played
his cards well, he might make an impression on the pretty widow.

'One can do that, I should say, without any cards at all,' said Owen,
showing his white teeth from amidst his big black beard.

When the ladies had left the dinner-table, Owen began to gain some
insight into the characters and pursuits of Howel's guests. He had not
spent thirteen or fourteen years amongst men of all ranks and all
nations, without havin