sort of a tip. She
looked earnestly at him, and smiled. Then she turned away, quite
composed, indeed.

My lads, I can guess what it was that deceitful varmint said to his minx
of a sister. They was laying a trap for me, the two of them. Ay! Yes,
indeed! And they caught me, as clean as a shark a sailor's leg!

"Rhoda's got a bad headache," says Gwen, sidling up to me.

"How do you know?" asks I, none too civil, for I was downright savage
with myself and every one else all round.

"She told me so," answered Gwen, as glib as an eel.

"I didn't see her speak to you," says I; nor did I, indeed.

"She complained of it this afternoon," remarked Gwen.

I didn't say no more. I was out of temper and out of sorts.

"Don't be angry with Rhoda!" whispers Gwen, quite kindly like. "She's
as true as steel!"

My lads, them words were designed to play me like a fish with a bait;
but they sounded so soft and consoling as to make me feel ashamed for my
rudeness to this girl.

"Thank'ee, Gwen!" says I. "You're a good sort! I did hope to have told
Rhoda of my luck to-night. But 'tain't to be, and I must just wait till
to-morrow!"

"The news will do her a power of good," whispers Gwen, quite
confidential. "Yes, indeed. David wanted to have her, but she won't
wed aught but Hugh Anwyl; and when you've got your money, you know, her
father will give his consent."

Now, you'd say, any man Jack of you, that these were fair and, to use a
figure of speech, sisterly words. By George, lads! when I heard them, I
caught hold of her hand and shook it hearty. It seemed to me that she
was handling me better than I handled her.

"Gwen," says I, "I've plighted my troth to Rhoda Howell, so I won't
offer to kiss you; but I do thank you, as a true friend to us both."

Bless you, you should have heard her laugh. It wasn't a clear, merry,
innocent sort of laugh, like my poor Rhoda's, but a kind of a nasty
sneer. It made me thrill again.

"I don't bear malice, Hugh Anwyl," she cries. "Not I! You and I were
better friends before Rhoda came--that's all!"

I was just a little puzzled by her words. By now, however, she had
gathered up her music, and began to walk away.

"Dear, dear!" she cried, as we got into the road which leads from
Glanwern to Dolgelly; "why, I declare, it's quite dark indeed, and I've
got to go to Llanbrecht to fetch some butter from Farmer Jenkins, and
I'm deadly afeard to pass the Clwm Rock, because of Ev