'But just consider, my love, the lateness of the hour.'

'It is scarcely eight o'clock now, papa, and as light as possible.'

'I am too nervous, my love, to bear your being out alone.'

Miss Gwynne rang the bell authoritatively, and the footman entered.

'Tell Mrs Davies to send some jelly, and whatever strengthening things
there are in the house, to Glanyravon Farm immediately,' she said; then
turning to her father, added, 'do you know, papa, Mrs Prothero has taken
in a sick Irish girl, and I have abetted it.'

'You, child! I hope she has no infectious disease; it quite alarms me.'

'I really don't know. But Mr and Mrs Jonathan Prothero are going to
Glanyravon to-morrow, and remember you invited them to dinner on
Wednesday.'

'I am very sorry! that man kills me with the antiquities of the Welsh
language, and heaven knows what old things that happened before the
flood. But you must entertain them. I suppose we had better ask young
Rowland.'

'Oh, papa! He is so dreadfully quiet and stiff, and thinks there is only
one man who ever went to Oxford, and he is that man; and I can't endure
him.'

'Perhaps not, my dear--indeed, perhaps not.'