'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.' 'Then you should make her.' Mrs Prothero could have said, 'You should have helped me to make her all her life,' but she refrained.
'Can't find her,' cried Owen, returning.
'Perhaps she is ill upstairs,' suggested Mrs Prothero, rising, and running up to her room.
The room was empty, as we know, and Mrs Prothero was about to leave it again, when she went to the open window to see if she could espy Netta from it.

She passed the dressing-table as she did so, and perceiving a letter, glanced at the direction.

She was surprised to find it addressed to herself, and on a nearer examination saw that it was in Netta's handwriting.

It was with a trembling hand and foreboding heart that she took it up and broke the seal After she had done this, she was some time before she could summon courage to open it.