l at midnight they all adjourned to the mill kitchen, where Shan
had prepared the usual meal of steaming coffee with bread and butter.
There was bread of all sorts, from the brown barley loaf to the creamy,
curled oatcake, flanked by piles of the delicious tea-cakes for which
Pont-y-fro was noted. The men washed down their cakes with foaming
"blues" from the beer barrel.

Robin Davies and Neddy "Pandy" arrived just in time for the coffee, and
when the meal was over they all returned to the kiln room, where the
air was filled with the aroma of the roasting corn.

It was only at such gatherings as these that Neddy ever experienced the
full enjoyments of life, for he was a homeless wanderer from place to
place.

Nature had been bountiful to him in the matter of bodily size and
strength, but she had not been correspondingly generous in her
allotment of mental capacities. No one knew anything of his parentage
or birthplace. Nobody cared sufficiently to inquire, and no one knew
of his weary hours of tramping over moor and mountain, led only by some
stray rumour of a fair or festive gathering, at which he might at least
for a few hours enjoy the pleasures of a "blue" of beer, a cheerful
greeting, and a seat in the chimney-corner, in return for a song, or a
turn at the "candle-dance," for which he was famous. He had called at
the old mill the week before, and Jacob had engaged his services for
the coming cynos. He had spent the day on board the _Speedwell_, where
Robin Davies was mate, and had had a good rest and a feast of music,
for Robin was a genius, and played his fiddle with wonderful taste and
skill, and Neddy, though wanting in many things, was behind no one in
his love for and appreciation of music. He was therefore unusually
bright and fresh when he arrived at the mill. He and Robin had walked
up all the way from Abersethin through the surf, carrying their shoes
under their arms.

"'Twill freshen thy feet, and make them hard for the candles," said
Robin.

Neddy's thin haggard face, surmounted by a thick crop of grizzled curly
hair, lighted up with pleasure as he felt the warm air of the roasting
room.

"Here, sit down by the kiln, man," said Gethin, "and rest a bit before
thou begin'st."

"Yes, and sing us 'Aderin pur'," said Jacob, "'twill prepare the air
for the dancing."

And Neddy struck up at once. He never required pressing, for his songs
seemed always on his lips. He sang his ballads as he p