But Valmai's agile limbs found no great difficulty in reaching the brown boards which lay loosely across the rafters.
"Now, straight along, my dear."
"It is very dark, but I have found it," and coming down the ladder backwards, she placed the cracked and dust-begrimed teapot on the table. "Oh, how brown and faded the papers are! Nance, what is this? I do believe it is your marriage certificate!"
"Very likely, my dear, and you will find the bill for my husband's funeral, too; and a pattern of my scarlet 'mantell,' the one I nursed my children in; oh! I thought a lot of that, and here it is still, you see, folded over my shoulders."
"What is this? You had bad ink, but I think it must be the address.
Let me see, here is 'Mrs. Besborough Power.'"
"I knew it was a hard, long name," said the old woman.
"'Carne,' but the last word, oh, Nance, what is it? It begins with M o, and ends with r e—r e is the end of the shire, of course. Merionithshire? No, it is M o, so must be Monmouthshire or Montgomeryshire, stay, there is a t in the middle. Mrs. Besborough Power, Carne—I will try Carne anyway," and next day she wrote to her sister addressing the letter:
Miss Gwladys Powell,
c/o Mrs. Besborough Power,
Carne,
Montgomeryshire.
In a few days her letter was returned.
"Not known," said Valmai; "then we have not read the address aright. I will go myself, Nance. I will go next week." And the following days were occupied with arrangements for her departure and Nance's comfort during her absence.