"Being laughed at does not hurt one," said Valmai, as she tied on her hat. "I will bring him back with me if possible."
She took a long look at the baby, who lay with flushed face on Nance's knees, and ran with all speed across the Rock-Bridge, from which the tide was just receding, up the straggling street of Abersethin, and through the shady lane, which led to the doctor's house.
There was great peering and peeping from the kitchen window, as Valmai made her progress between the heaps of straw in the farm-yard to the back door, which stood open. The doctor's wife, who had her arms up to her elbows in curds and whey, looked up from her cheese-tub as she appeared at the door.
"Dear me, Miss Powell! Well, indeed, what's the matter?"
"Oh, it's my baby, Mrs. Hughes! Can Dr. Hughes come with me at once?"
"There's a pity, now," said Mrs. Hughes; "he is gone to Brynderyn. Mr.
Wynne is not well. Grieving, they say, about his son."
Valmai blushed, and Mrs. Hughes was pleased with her success.
"When will he be back, d' you think?"
"Not till evening, I'm afraid. But there's Mr. Francis, the assistant—shall I call him? he is very clever with children. Here he is. Will you go with Miss Powell, to see—h'm—a baby which she is taking a great interest in on Ynysoer?"
"Yes, certainly," said the young assistant, colouring, for he had heard Valmai's story, and never having seen her, was now rather bewildered by her beauty, and the awkwardness of the situation.