other expedition in that direction.

"Wait a bit," said Mrs. Jones. "You can write, Sara?"

"Yes, in Welsh," said the old woman.

"Well, then, send a letter, and Tom will take it for you."

Sara took her advice, and, putting on her spectacles, wrote as follows:

"Sara Lloyd, Garthowen Moor, is writing to thee, Gethin Owens, to say
she is here at Mrs. Jones's, No. 2 Bryn Street, with good news for
thee. All the way from Garthowen to fetch thee, my boy, so come as
soon as thou canst."

The writing was large and sprawly, it was addressed to "Gethin Owens,
mate of the _Gwenllian_,--Captain Price," and when Tom had departed,
with the letter safe in his jacket pocket, the two women set themselves
to wait as patiently as they could; but the hours dragged on heavily
until tea-time.

"Gethin was fond of his tea," said Mrs. Jones, "and I wouldn't wonder
if he'd be here before long."

The tea table was laid, the cakes were toasted the tea brewing was
delayed for some time. It was Mrs. Jones's turn now to be anxious, and
even irritable; but Sara had quite regained her composure.

"He'll come," she said. "I know he'll come. I know my work is nearly
over."

"There's missing you I'll be," said Mrs. Jones. "I wish my poor old
mother was as easy to live with as you, Sara; but 'tis being alone so
long has made her cranky. And the money--oh, she loves it dearly.
Indeed, if I can get Davy to agree, we will give up this house and go
home and live near her; 'tis pity the old woman should grow harder in
her old age."

"Yes," said Sara. "'Tis riper and softer we ought to be growing in our
old age, more ready to be gathered. I will go and see her sometimes;
oftener than I have."

Their conversation was interrupted by a shadow passing the window, and
a firm footstep in the passage.

"Hoi, hoi!" said a loud, breezy voice, "Mrs. Jones!--how is she here?"
and Gethin Owens clasped her hand with a resounding clap.

"Much you care how I am, Gethin Owens. Never been to see me for so
long."

"Well, you look all the better for my absence, I think. But what you
want with me? Tom Jenkins said an old woman wanted to see me shocking,
and I gave him a clatch on his ear, to teach him not to call a young
woman like you an old woman. Why, you look ten years younger than when
I saw you last."

"Go 'long, Gethin Owens," said Mrs. Jones. "Didn't you have the
letter?"

"No. Tom said the boys in the streets had torn it in a s