'I am very sorry, Mrs Jenkins,' began trembling Mrs Prothero rubbing one
hand nervously over the other, 'but my husband is afraid that Howel is
not quite steady enough for such a giddy young thing as Netta.'
'Study! why, tak' your time and you'll be seeing how study and pretty he
do behave. On my deet, and I 'ouldn't say that, if I wasn't as seure as
I'm alive, he haven't took a drop too much, nor said a wicked word, nor
keep no low company since his poor dear father was dying. Ah, Mrs
Prothero! you was being very good to us when I was losing my poor
Griffey. Who'd be thinking what a heap of money he'd be leaving, and
Howel'll be building a good house for me? and seure, I must be dressing
in my best, and having servants to wait on me? and, bless you, nothing
as my son Howel's can be getting is too good for his poor old mother!'
'I am very glad to hear he is so kind,' said Mrs Prothero.
'Then what do you say about Netta, Mrs Prothero, fach?' sharply asked
Mrs Jenkins.
'To tell you the truth, I have very little power; my husband made up his
mind and wrote the note without consulting me.'
'Then maybe I could be seeing Mr Prothero?'
'I am afraid it would only lead to something unpleasant between you.'
'Oh, you needn't be taking the trouble to be afraid, ma'am! I am calling
my Howel as good or better as your Netta.
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