'I will bring her,' said Mr Jones, 'and she can but return, if you cannot prevail on your sister to see her.' Rowland could only press the hands of his kind friends, and hurry back to Netta. He found her sitting in an old easy-chair, with Minette on a stool at her feet, fast asleep. The child refused to go to bed till 'Uncle Rowland' came back. There was a bright fire in the grate, and a supper was spread on a table drawn close to it. Candles replaced the gas-lamp, and the room looked almost cheerful, in spite of its faded red curtains and dingy furniture. Netta had a small book in her hand, which she gave Rowland to look at. 'Mother gave me that when I was ill years ago--how long ago? How old is Minette?' 'She must be nearly eight, I think,' said Rowland, turning over the small, well-read Testament that had once been his mother's. 'I like that book now, Rowland!' said Netta. 'I am so glad you have come back. It seemed so lonesome when you were gone. Ha! ha! Howel used to say I must say _lonely_ and not lonesome. Are you sure he won't come and find you here?' 'Quite sure. And I am going to bring another old friend to see you?--you remember Gladys?' 'Gladys! No, I don't remember her. What! The Irish beggar? I don't like her, and she don't like me. I think I was very unkind to her. Yes, I should like to see her once to ask her pardon.' Minette awoke just at this moment, and Rowland took her on his knee, and gave her some supper, and tried to make Netta eat, but it was evident that she had neither appetite nor inclination for food, though she did her best to please her brother. 'This is like old times, Rowland,' she said. 'I like it better than grandeur. When will Gladys come? Owen told me she saved mother's life. Is it true? Why doesn't mother come?' 'Would you like to see Gladys to-night, Netta?' 'Yes. Will you go and fetch her?' Rowland found Gladys and Mr Jones in Mrs Saunders' parlour. Gladys said she would take her bonnet off, that she might meet Netta as she used to do at the farm. Rowland did not know that Gladys had put on the identical print gown that Netta had given her years ago, and which she had kept carefully, in remembrance of her. This and a plain cap transformed her into the Gladys of Netta's recollection, from the Gladys of Miss Gwynne's attiring. Her heart beat almost as quickly as Netta's as she entered her room, but she steadied her nerves and voice as she went up to Netta, curtseyed, and said quite naturally,-- 'How do you do, Miss Netta?' Netta put her hand to her brow, as if to clear her memory, and fixed her large bewildered eyes on Gladys. Then she put out her hand, rather condescendingly, with something of the old attempt at superiority, and finally burst into tears.