"Perhaps, indeed," said Gwladys.
"Art going to Gwen's wedding?" he asked.
"Yes, I think," she said.
"And to the bidding?"
"Yes, I suppose. Is the Mishteer coming?"
"Not to the wedding, I think," said Ivor, "we couldn't expect the Mishteer to do that, though he is so isel,[[12]] but to the bidding he will come——"
"Yes, indeed!" said Gwladys, "and with his hand in his pocket I am sure. He is so kind; he gave my mother our cow, you know; indeed, I don't know what we should have done without him since my father died; but let us go back."
"Why," asked Ivor, "art tired? or is there anyone waiting for thee?"
"Tired? no; and nobody is waiting for me, except my mother, perhaps."
"Art sure no lover is waiting thee?"