"Canst hear, Mari?" he asked.
"No, nothing! But I've been listening to the sea, and I quite forgot the prayer-meeting, whatever."
Hugh opened his eyes, with a smiling pretence of reproof.
"Where is 'n'wncwl Jos?" he whispered; and Mari pointed to the doorway. Hugh looked grave. "Is he going to stay to the gwylnos?"
"Yes," said Mari, with an uneasy look on her face.
"Wouldst like me to stay, lass?"
"Oh! no, Hugh bâch! and you hating a gwylnos as much as I do!"
"Twt, twt!" said Hugh, and he elbowed his way into the crowded passage.
The meeting was fortunately drawing to a close when Hugh entered, for the air in the small, close room was intolerably stifling. In the penucha he discovered the old man sitting close to the coffin, which stood across the fireplace. He had found the square hole in the boards, and had been able to get safely through the meeting without disturbing the gathering by the sound of his wooden leg, for in the soft earth he had been able to stump unheard.
"Well, Mishteer!" he said, when the dispersing of the crowd and the comparative emptying of the cottage enabled him to draw near his friend, "there's beautiful prayers we had! There's no doubt Sam Saer beats anyone in Mwntseison on his knees. Are you going to stop to the gwylnos?"