'He was as good as his word, and the following day resolutely kept near the poor, timid girl, aiding her to bind up the full-eared corn, and carrying it himself for her to the mows, into which they were hastily forming the sheaves for fear of rain. He could not resist occasionally alluding to Mr David Jones, but receiving no encouragement to carry out the jest, and finding her as silent and shy as a frightened child, he gave up the subject, and with it all attempt at conversation. He declared afterwards that she worked like a slave, and knew all about harvesting as well as anybody, only she was not strong, and that she was the dullest Irish woman he ever saw in his life, since even the beggars had a bit of fun in them. Indeed he didn't believe her to be Irish, or credit a word of her story; but, as to beauty, he began to agree with his mother, for if she had only a colour she would be as pretty a girl, with as graceful a figure, as anybody need wish to see. The farmer declared that she had well earned her supper; and that if mother thought she would do, she might keep her instead of Betty, after Hollantide; the said Betty having signified her intention of getting married at the matrimonial season of the year. Mrs Prothero said she would think it over, but she was afraid she was not strong enough for hard farm service. It was evident that Gladys had taken a step into the kind heart of the worthy farmer. CHAPTER XIII. THE WIDOW. 'Whose grand groom is that, half afraid to ride through the yard?' asked Mr Prothero, as he and his son Owen were standing by the big wheat-mow, awaiting the arrival of a load of corn. 'I'll go and see what he wants,' said Owen, and off he went. He returned, bearing a note for his father. 'He says he is Mr Griffith Jenkins's groom, and waits for an answer. Howel doesn't do the thing by halves anyhow.' 'Mr Griffith Jackanapes!' said the farmer, breaking the seal of the note hastily, and reading it. Owen watched his countenance assume an angry expression, and then heard him utter a very broad Welsh oath. 'Tell that feller there's no answer,' said Mr Prothero. 'What is it about father? you had better let mother see it first.' 'The impudent young ass! does he think I am to be taken in by all that gold and plush? He shall never have my consent, and you may tell him so, Owen.' 'Come into the house a minute, father, and let us see the note.' They went into the house, the farmer giving an indignant grunt at the groom as he passed. 'Mother, come here!' he roared as he entered the parlour, followed by Owen. The obedient wife left her kitchen and went to her husband. 'Read you it out loud, Owen.' Owen read.