We are obliged to commit dozens of them as vagrants, and I should not at all wonder if we should not be compelled to have you taken up some day for harbouring suspicious characters.' The tears stood in Mrs Prothero's kind eyes.

She had not much authority amongst the young people apparently.
'There, mother! I knew Miss Gwynne would agree with me.' 'And do you think the law of Christian charity would agree with you, Netta ?' here broke in a grave and stern voice from the sofa.
Both the young ladies coloured at this interruption?
Miss Gwynne with mortified dignity, Netta with anger.

Mrs Prothero cast an appealing glance at her son, who came forward.
'She may have my bed, mother,' said the young man, colouring in his turn, as he met Miss Gwynne's defiant glance, that seemed to say, 'Who are you ?' 'How very absurd, Mr Rowland,' said that young lady, laughing scornfully.

'I suppose, according to your law of Christian charity, we must fill our houses with all the Irish beggars that come through Carmarthenshire! A goodly company!' 'Have you seen this poor girl.

Miss Gwynne ?' 'No, certainly not, but I know by heart all she has to say.' 'If you would but just see her,' said Mrs Prothero entreatingly not daring to contradict the heiress of Glanyravon Park, who had a will of her own, if Mrs Prothero had not.
'With the greatest pleasure; but I know all the "my leddy's," "yer honour's," and "the sweet face o' ye," that I shall hear.' 'Don't go, Miss Gwynne, you may take the fever.