. O." "Gethin." She
half-closed the old book, and then, with a furtive glance round the
room and through the window, opened it again, and, stooping down,
pressed her lips on the name, then, blushing a vivid red, she mounted
the table once more and replaced the Bible.

It was a long, weary day, but it came at last to a close. She made up
the fire, prepared the tea, with piles of buttered toast and new-laid
eggs in plenty, and soon the jingling car drove into the farmyard,
Gwilym Morris lifting Ann bodily out, and both assisting the old man
with tender care, Morva hovering round. She was to sleep at the farm
that night in order to be ready for the early churning next day, so
when they were all seated at the tea-table she left the house with the
intention of seeing if Sara required any help.

"I will be back before supper," she said, and hurried homewards over
the moor, where the wind was rising and sighing in the broom bushes.
The clouds were hurrying up from the north-west, and threatening to
overcast the pale evening sky, quivering flocks of fieldfares whirred
over her, and the gold and purple were fast losing their brilliant
tints. As she neared the cottage in the darkening twilight, a patch of
scarlet caught her eye, and a warm glow of comfort rushed into her
heart. It was Sara's red mantle and she knew the faithful heart was
waiting for her.

"The dear old mother," she said, and hastening her footsteps soon
reached Sara, who stood leaning on her stick and peering over the moor.

"Here I am, mother!" she said, as cheerfully as she could.

"'Merch fach i!" said Sara tenderly, and they turned into the cottage
together.

The tea was laid on the little round table in the chimney corner.

"Did you expect me, then, mother?"

"Yes; I thought thou wouldst come, child, to see how I fared as thou
art sleeping there to-night," and sitting down together they chatted
over their tea.

At Garthowen there was much chat going on, too. Ebben Owens had not
sold his yearlings.

"I wasn't going to give them away for half price, not I!" he said.
"I'd rather keep them till next fair." So Twm had driven them home
again, and was even now turning them into the old cowhouse.

"Well! I have a wonderful piece of news to give you all," said Gwilym
Morris, leaning back in his chair and diving deep into his pocket.
Having pulled out a canvas bag he laid it triumphantly on the table
with a bang.

"What is it?" said all, in a