'I beg your pardon, Miss Gwynne. If she is to be found, I must do it. I 'ont have a talk made about our turning her out of doors, and such like. As she isn't gone Glamorganshire way, I suppose she must be gone towards Ireland, and I had best follow that scent. I'll give her one more turn, and then have done with her. Mother, if I don't come home to-night, don't be frightened, as she may have gone a good step.' Mr Prothero was leaving the room, when Miss Hall stopped him, saying,-- 'I thought, Mr Prothero, that you might not have seen this notice of a meeting in your son's parish, and as he is mentioned, I brought over the paper for you.' Mr Prothero thanked Miss Hall, and took out his spectacles. Whilst he was wiping them, however, Miss Hall read from the _Times_ the report of a meeting for forming a ragged school in Rowland's parish, in which was the following paragraph:--'The Reverend Rowland Prothero, curate of the parish, made a very clear and able speech upon the subject, and brought forward a well-digested plan for the school, which will probably be adopted. The thanks of the meeting were offered to him.' 'There is always a pleasure with every pain,' said Mrs Prothero, wiping her eyes. 'Thank you, Miss Hall.' 'And the Bishop of London was in the chair. So, mother, if he isn't a bishop himself, you see he's been very near one,' said Mr Prothero, looking very much gratified. 'Well, I'll go now, Miss Gwynne, and look after that confounded--I beg your pardon, Miss--after that Irish jade,' and he went accordingly, leaving the ladies to talk it over with his wife. CHAPTER XXVI. THE FRIEND. Mr Prothero started as soon as his horse was ready, and, it must be confessed, in a very bad temper. As soon as he got out of the precincts of Glanyravon, he began to make inquiries of every one he met, and at every cottage he passed, concerning Gladys. It was evident, from the replies that he received, that if she had gone that road, it was so early in the morning that no one had seen her. At last he fell in with a farmer's wife whom he knew, who was jogging along on horseback, with a little boy behind her. After the usual greetings, he said,-- 'You never come to Glanyravon now, Mrs Davies. I daresay you haven't seen any of our folk for a year?' 'Well, not exactly. But I almost fancied I saw that pretty young 'ooman that lives with you yesterday morning. She was too shabby, or I should have been seure of the face. Only when she saw me she turned away and went on.' 'Which way?' 'Oh, down the Carmarthen road, seure.' 'You'll excuse my hurrying on, Mrs Davies; I want to call at Lewis, Dryslwyn.' 'To be seure. Good morning, Mr Prothero.' The worthy farmer rode off at a gallop, till he was more than out of sight of Mrs Davies. He stopped at a tidy cottage to speak to an old woman who was washing at the door. 'Did you chance to see a strange young 'ooman go by here yesterday, early?' he asked. 'What young 'ooman?' was the rejoinder.