'Well, I will now. But I can't promise to give up Netta. I've had enough of Abertewey, and don't mean to go there any more as far as I can see at present, and that's all I can say about that matter. As for Gladys, I suppose I must get her consent and yours to marry her, and when I've got them you won't object, I suppose?' 'I think you'd best go off to sea again. I don't want any agreements made here.' 'I am not going to make any agreements, but as I am your eldest son, and the only one able and willing to stay at home and help you and mother, I do not see why you should wish to send me off to sea again, now that I really would be of use to you. I know that I have not been what I ought to have been to you hitherto, and my desire is to make up for the past as well as I can. So, father, you had better take me whilst I am in the humour, and see what you can make of me. Hit the nail while it is hot, and don't discourage me at first starting, or I shall never get on. You know I'm very shy, and want some one to lend me a helping hand. If you're not too hard upon me you may make something useful of me yet.' Owen put his hand on his father's shoulder, as he wound up his speech, in a coaxing, boyish way, that had always proved irresistible. The honest farmer pished and pshawed, and tried to get into a fresh passion, but meeting Owen's saucy eyes, fairly broke down. 'I tell you what it is, Owen, you're a regular scamp, and always were; but you know better than any of 'em to come over me, so--now, don't be a fool, mother! Just because the good-for-nothing young scoundrel promises to stay at home you must begin to cry. Name o' goodness hold your tongue, and don't be coaxing and kissing me, and all that nonsense. He 'out keep his promise a month, you shall see.' 'So she shall, father, and you and I will shake hands upon it, and I'll be a good boy, and never be naughty any more.' Father and son shook hands, and mother and son embraced, and future chapters will show whether Owen kept his word. CHAPTER XXXII. THE MAN OF THE WORLD. Two or three months passed, and no particular event happened either at the park or farm, and summer came round again. Gladys was now established at the former, and Owen at the latter, but although they had seen one another frequently at church or at a distance, they had scarcely spoken since they parted on the evening of their remarkable meeting in the cow-house. Gladys scrupulously avoided Owen, and all his endeavours to fall in with her were fruitless. Colonel Vaughan was again at Glanyravon, and Freda was in buoyant spirits. So, indeed, were her neighbours, the Nugents,--Miss Nugent in particular. She was to be of age in a few days, and grand preparations were making to celebrate the event. On the morning on which we take up our Glanyravon narrative Miss Nugent is inflicting herself upon Miss Gwynne, who longs to tell her to go away, but is too polite to do so.