the boy, "and I will go and see," and he darted
away, leaving Sara somewhat forlorn amongst the rough crowd of sailors
and dockmen.

"Hullo, mother!" said a jolly-looking red-faced man who had nearly
toppled over the little frail figure; "what you doing so far from home?
They are missing you shocking in some chapel away in the hills
somewhere, I'm sure."

"Well, indeed, 'tis there I would like to go as soon as my business is
ended. 'Tis Gethin Owens I am looking for, mate of the _Gwenllian_."

"Oh, ho," said the man, "you may go back to chapel at once, little
woman; you won't find him, for he sailed yesterday for France."

At this moment the boy returned with the same information, and Sara
turned her face sorrowfully away from the shipping.

"I will give you two pennies if you will take me back to Bryn Street."

"Come on," said the boy.

He did not tell her that his home lay in that identical street, and
that he was already due there.

Once more the little red mantle passed through the busy crowd. Not for
years had Sara felt so sad and disappointed, the heavy air of the town
probably added to her dejection.

Mrs. Jones was loud in her sympathy as Sara, faint and weary, seated
herself on the settle.

"Oh, Kitty Jones fach!" she said, leaning on her stick and swaying
backwards and forwards. "I am more sorry than I can say. To go back
without comfort for Garthowen or my little Morva. He's gone to France,
and I suppose he won't be back for a year or six months, whatever, and
I have no money to stop here all that time."

"Six months!" said Mrs. Jones; "there's ignorant you are in the
country. Why, he'll be back in a fortnight, perhaps a week. What's
the woman talking about?"

"Yes, indeed?" said Sara, in delighted astonishment. "Yes, I am a very
ignorant woman, I know, but a week or a fortnight, or even three weeks,
I will stop," and the usual look of happy content once more beamed in
her eyes.

Every day little Tom Jenkins, upon whom Sara's two pennies had made a
favourable impression, went down to the docks to see if the _Gwenllian_
had arrived. When a week, a fortnight, and nearly three weeks had
passed away, and still she was not in port, Mrs. Jones suggested that
probably she had extended her voyage to some other port, or was perhaps
waiting for repairs.

At last one sunny morning Tom Jenkins came in with a whoop.

"The _Gwenllian_ is in the docks!" he cried, and Sara prepared at once
for an