ave
been unfortunate Mrs Jenkins, fach! and no fault of yours." And she was
giving me this new white shoal. And, seure, if it wasn't for Rowland
Prothero and she, I 'oudn't be in that tidy cottage by there, with Mrs
Owen and my grandoater coming to see me and reading to me; and Mrs
Prothero too, is seure, and bringing me something nice, and my Griffey
with hundreds of thousands, Mrs Jones, as you was knowing,'

Mrs Jenkins gradually gets excited, as she finds Mrs Jones listens, and
by degrees she gains the ear of the rest of the party, who all, in spite
of Gladys' efforts to divert their attention, turn to her when they hear
the words 'Rowland and Miss Gwynne.'

'I must be telling you now, Mrs Jones, ma'am,' continues Mrs Jenkins,
'that I am not forgetting all your kindness to me up in London, when
every one else was turning away. Ach a fi! and they 'joying themselves
at Abertewey.'

Mrs Jones presses Mrs Griffey's arm, and whispers 'hush!'

'To be seure! I was forgetting. But, indeet, Rowland Prothero did be
more than a son to me, and if Miss Gwynne was my own doater she couldn't
be kinder. She was buying up enough of my beauty furniture to fill the
little cottage. I did be finding it out 'esterday, and seure it was
their wedding present to a poor, childless widow, as 'ould be in the
Eunion, and I with hundreds and thousands!'

'Hold your tongue, name o' goodness, 'Lizbeth Jenkins!' growls Mr
Prothero.

'Hush, Davy, bach! we have all our troubles,' says Mrs Prothero,
brushing a tear from her eye.

'Grandfather, I liked Harold so much!' says Minette, to the great relief
of the rest of the party.

'Call him Master Gwynne, you forward little minx,' says Mr Prothero,
patting the child's back gently.

'Oh! but he told me he should marry me, and that Colonel Vaughan said he
was my uncle.'

'Children and 'oomen all alike,' says the farmer; 'thinking of marriage
as soon as they can speak. Gladys, why don't you teach the child
better?'

'It was the champagne, father,' says Owen. 'My full impression is, that
a few glasses more and you would have kissed Lady Mary. I wish we had
brought a glass for you to drink the bride and bridegroom's health, Aunt
'Lizbeth.'

'Oh, I have been drinking that pain!'

A sudden little cry in the corner prevents any allusion to the occasion
on which Mrs Jenkins drank champagne.

Gladys has her baby in her arms in a few seconds. The infant is attired
in her christening robe and cap