“Not only him,” said I, “but his house, family, and all relating to him.”
“By what means?” said the man.
“By means of a song made a long time ago, which describes Sycharth as it was in his time, and his manner of living there.”
Presently Gwen, who had been preparing coffee in expectation of my return, poured out a cupful, which she presented to me, at the same time handing me some white sugar in a basin.
I took the coffee, helped myself to some sugar, and returned her thanks in her own language.
“Ah,” said the man, in Welsh, “I see you are a Cumro. Gwen and I have been wondering whether you were Welsh or English; but I see you are one of ourselves.”
“No,” said I in the same language, “I am an Englishman, born in a part of England the farthest of any from Wales. In fact, I am a Carn Sais.”
“And how came you to speak Welsh?” said the man.
“I took it into my head to learn it when I was a boy,” said I. “Englishmen sometimes do strange things.”
“So I have heard,” said the man, “but I never heard before of an Englishman learning Welsh.”