"There, thou villain!" said Lallo, pouring a steaming bucketful of food into his trough; "hold thy tongue if thou canst."
"Oo'ee—oo'ee—oo'ee!" shrieked the pig, and Lallo imitating his tones derisively, the noise was deafening. At last, retiring from the frequent fray, she threw herself down on the settle in the penisha, from which all the guests had departed, and where nothing but the remains of the feast were left.
"Yes," she mused, "it is just as well that Gwen is married; there will now be a man to manage him; he wants a firmer hand than mine—the villain! Ivor never managed him properly. Now I will take the money to the Mishteer."
She had no sooner appeared at her front door than the pig assailed her with a fresh burst of "Oo'ee—oo'ees!" and Lallo shook her fist at him.
"Devil!" she said; "but never mind, my boy, wait till the fifth of September."
A few days afterwards, when the evening shadows were falling, Gwladys took her way to the beach, again to fill her creel for Nance Owen. The sun was sinking behind the sea in a glory of purple and gold, making a crimson pathway, which broadened out at her feet. She stood and gazed over the rippling surface, wondering whether Ivor was out fishing this evening. Once or twice a little boat crossed the shining pathway like a grey moth, and she called to mind the happy hour she had spent with him on the moon-lit bay. Would it ever happen again? Why did it seem so distant and so impossible? Is this his boat coming swiftly towards her? She heard the grating of the prow on the sand, she saw a stalwart form, who leapt to the shore, and walked hurriedly towards her. For a moment her heart beat faster, but only for a moment, for she saw the broad shoulders and firm step belonged to Hugh Morgan.
"Gwladys!" he called, "is it thee? Luck follows me to-day. This morning brought me good news, and this evening brings me something better. Wilt come in my boat for a row? It is real summer on the water this evening."
"I would like it; but, indeed, Mishteer, I can't, for Nance Owen will want her laver weed, and my creel is full."
"Nance can wait," said Hugh, "and I will loosen thy creel." And he began to loosen the strap which crossed her bosom. She did not think of resisting; "it was the Mishteer!" And she quietly helped to slip her head out of the strap. It was not without some measure of gratified vanity that she felt herself singled out from all the other girls in the village by his kindness; and therefore it was with a little flutter of pride that she allowed herself to be lifted into the boat, though the glamour which had brooded over sea and sky during her row with Ivor was absent. It was evident to her that the Mishteer was pleased with her work, and perhaps with her industry; but that he loved her had never dawned upon her mind. She took her oar naturally—every man, woman, and child at Mwntseison being perfectly at home on the water—and they rowed straight out towards the sunset, until the shore and village looked like a pretty vignette.
"There's nice, it is!" exclaimed Gwladys, "out here on the bay! 'Tis pity, indeed, that we can't come oftener!"