as a more popular
presentation. May God prosper your labours as a rector as He has as
curate.

'Give our love to my niece, Gladys, and kind regards to all the
rest of your family, with a kiss to Minette, and believe me, most
faithfully yours,

WILLIAM JONES.'

Mrs Jonathan Prothero had begun to read this letter with a firm voice.
It faltered before she got half way through it, and nearly failed before
she completed it.

'Read the other before you say anything,' said Mr Prothero.

She began accordingly, clearing her throat and eyes at the same time.

'MY DEAR SIR,--I have great pleasure in offering you the living of
which you are now curate, vacant by the lamented death of Mr
Stephenson. I assure you that the united request of your friends
and parishioners was but the echo of my own will, as I have long
known and appreciated your untiring labours for the good of the
souls committed to your care, particularly during the long illness
of the rector, when you were of necessity brought more prominently
forward.

'Praying that God's blessing may rest on you and your
parishioners,--I remain, my dear sir, faithfully yours,

'LONDON.'

'Rowland! my dear nephew!' exclaimed Mr Jonathan Prothero, 'this is
incredible! Such a living, without interest, personal application, much
acquaintance with his lordship--'

'You forget, my dear,' said Mrs Jonathan interrupting her husband in his
speech, and herself in an embrace she was about to give Rowland; 'you
forget that Rowland frequently met the bishop at Sir Philip Payne
Perry's, and was not without interest, I am proud to say.'

'And I am proud that he has got on by honest merit,' said Mr Jonathan.

'And so am I, uncle, much obliged as we are to the "three green peas,"'
said Owen. 'Let us shake hands upon it, Rowly, and here's Gladys waiting
for a kiss; she'll be running away from me again to be your district
visitor, or Sister of Charity, or whatever you call it. Quite grand to
have a near relation a London rector; I am half a foot taller already.'

'Kiss me, Uncle Rowland; I am very glad the bishop has written you such
a nice letter,' said Minette. Rowland took the child up in his arms.
'Grandma Jenkins is crying so in the corner,' she whispered; 'is it for
papa, or poor mamma?'

Rowland's attention was instantly recalled to Mrs Jenkins, who was,
indeed, crying and sobbing very much.