As she was such a clever sempstress, even Netta did not object to a proposal made by Mrs Prothero, that she should remain as a work-girl, at least until Owen's wardrobe was in a decent condition; and she was accordingly installed in a small room, half lumber-room, half work-room, as shirt-maker in ordinary to the son and heir.

He was restored to his own bedroom, and, together, with his father kept at a distance from the bone of contention.
However, adverse elements cannot always be kept apart, and one day when Mrs Prothero was sitting stitching wrist-bands with Gladys, her better half made his appearance suddenly in the room.
'Mother, I have been hunting you out all over the house,' he exclaimed?
'I have torn the sleeve of my coat from top to bottom in that confounded hedge.' As he took off his coat and displayed the tear, he perceived Gladys, who had risen from her work, and curtseyed very timidly and profoundly.

Mr Prothero had almost forgotten the Irish beggar, and certainly did not suppose the tidy-looking, pale, tall girl before him to be her.
'Oh, young 'ooman, I daresay you can do this job for me.

You've got a new manty-maker, mother; where's Jane Morris, name o' goodness ?' 'We're only making shirts for Owen, father,' replied the wife meekly, dreading an outburst.
Gladys took up the coat and was instantly engaged in mending it, whilst Mr Prothero produced a letter just received from Rowland.
'There, my dear, now you ought to be satisfied, and I am sure Mrs Jonathan will be as proud as Punch.

Rowland has been ordained by the Bishop of London himself, and "passed a very good examination," or whatever they call it.