'Now let me read you this, Netta? it is for the _Welshman,_ and every one will see it:--"On the 16th instant, at St James's Church, Piccadilly, London, Howel Jenkins, Esq., of our county, was married to Miss Prothero, daughter of D. Prothero, Esq., of Glanyravon. Sir John Simpson gave away the lovely bride, and the wedding-breakfast was attended by a select, but fashionable party of friends."' 'Father will see that,' said Netta; 'he will be in such a passion.' 'Serve him right,' replied Howel, and called the page and sent the letters to the post. The carriage was at the door, and the luggage in. Mrs Griffith Jenkins was busily engaged in packing up the cake and a spare bottle of champagne, together with a few other confections' in a stray hamper. 'Make haste, mother,' cried Howel. 'Stop you, Howel, bach! in a minute. We must be wishing you joy at home; and I should like to be sending cousin Prothero some of this grand cake.' At last Mrs Jenkins and her hamper were ready, and the trio started for the Paddington Station. When they arrived there Howel took a second-class ticket for his mother as far as Swansea, telling her to take a first-class from that place home. She was to sleep with some friends at Swansea. 'We mustn't waste money, mother.' 'Treue for you, Howel.' 'Tell everybody at home of the grand wedding.' 'Don't be afraid of that.' When Howel had seen his mother off, he and Netta drove to their station, and, per first-class carriage, with page in second, steamed off to Folkestone, which was to be the first stage of their life-journey. CHAPTER XVI. THE SERVANT. We must now leave Netta and her husband for a time, and return to the morning when Netta left her home to go forth in search of a new one. The breakfast-table was spread at the farm, and all were assembled except Netta. 'Owen, go and call Netta,' said Mr Prothero, seating himself before some smoking rashers of bacon; 'she's always late, I'll say that for her.' Owen did his father's bidding, but returned exclaiming,-- 'She is up and out of her room. There must be something wonderful to make her go out before breakfast.' 'Such a lovely morning,' said Mrs Prothero, 'I daresay she is in the garden.' 'Well, let her find her way in,' said the farmer; 'she knows the hour, and we'll fall to. Say grace, mother, if you please.' Mrs Prothero said grace, and the trio sat down to breakfast. 'I expect brother Jo and Mrs Jonathan to-day,' said Mr Prothero; 'they are going to a clerical meeting, and are coming here on their way back.' 'Dear me!' said Mrs Prothero. 'What can we have for dinner?' 'Eggs and bacon. What better?' said the farmer. 'But you needn't be afraid, they 'ont come till tea. Owen, I wish you'd just look out and see after that idle slut Netta.' Off started Owen with a piece of bread and butter in his hand. 'Mother, why don't you make that girl more regular?' asked Mr Prothero. 'Oh, David! you know she doesn't mind me.'