"She said she was never seeing him, and she didn't know why he was keeping away from her, and the sailors were often seeing him about the docks, but she didn't know where he was lodging now. There's glad I was to see her; but indeed, Sara fâch, it cost me a lot of money, 'cos she's got a good appetite, whatever. 'Tis a great waste to come all that long way by the trên. She wants to come again, and if it wasn't for the money—"
Sara, who had no sympathy with the parsimony of many of her class, rose to go.
"Well, I won't stop longer, Nani fâch; good-bye and thank you."
When she saw her visitor was really going, Nani was profuse in her offers of hospitality.
"Going! Caton pawb! not without breakfast?"
But Sara was gone, and already making her way to the high road which led along the brow of the hill to Caer-Madoc. It was twenty years since she had last been in the town, and even in this remote place twenty years had brought changes—the busy streets, the shops, the cries of the vendors of herrings and cockles, would have bewildered and puzzled her had she not been possessed by a strong purpose and sustained by that faith which can move mountains. Aided by old memories she found her way to the quay and to the small steamer with the long English name, which plied twice a week between the ports of Caer-Madoc and Cardiff.
"Are you going to Cardiff?" she asked the master, who stood on the quay.
"Why, yes, of course this is the day, and we are starting in a quarter of an hour. Who are you?" he said, looking with amused curiosity at the quaint figure with her crutch stick and black bundle.
"I am Sara Lloyd of Garthowen Moor, and I want to go with you to
Cardiff. Will you take me?"
"Of course, little woman, if you can pay."