nce
Howel's letter. Gladys was as bright and busy as a queen-bee, and
Minette was all tears and smiles.

There were a great many 'last words' to be said, and as all the
preparations had been made the previous day, there was plenty of time to
say them.

'I don't know how to thank you,' said poor Netta to Mrs Jones and Miss
Gwynne, as they were putting on her last warm cloak. The tears were
streaming down her pale cheeks, and her hand, as usual, was on her
heart.

Mrs Jones kissed her, and Miss Gwynne said cheerfully, 'I shall see you
soon, Netta, and I want Mrs Jones to come to Glanyravon with me, so it
will not be a long parting.'

'You have been very good to my child and me,--God will bless you!'
sobbed Netta.

'I will come again, Mr Jones, and see you, and Mrs Jones, and the little
children,' said Minette, who was hugging Mr Jones warmly.

He took her up in his arms, kissed her, and put her into the cab next
her mother, who had been placed therein by Rowland.

Gladys' farewells were the last.

'That's what I call something like it, Rowly,' said Owen tapping his
brother's shoulder, as he watched Mr and Mrs Jones alternately give
Gladys a most affectionate embrace.

'But why does the old parson hug her so? He shouldn't do that if I were
Mrs Jones, or if she were Mrs--'

The truth was, that at the last the uncle's feelings overcame Gladys'
desire for secrecy, and exploded in a kiss long and fatherly.

When she was in the cab Mr Jones called Owen aside, and said in a
whisper,--

'I know you will take care of Gladys, and remember, that although she is
ready for everything that is good, she is not strong. If your father
makes the least objection to her remaining with your sister, take her to
the Park, whence she can return at once to us. As long as I live, no one
will neglect her with impunity; but I am sure I can trust you and
yours.'

'That you certainly may,' said Owen, nearly shaking Mr Jones' hand off,
but saying to himself a few minutes after, 'What could he mean by
putting her into my care? If his wife had done it, or Miss Gwynne, well
and good; but I declare parsons are no better than the rest of us, I
daresay Rowly isn't half as steady as he seems; he and Miss Gwynne are
wonderfully polite to one another, and he's as grand as any lord.'

Owen jumped upon the box, and Rowland by the side of Gladys inside the
cab, and so they drove off through the thick fog, some five or six miles
to the Paddingto