“Nothing,” said she; “if you had had a cup of tea I should have charged sixpence.”
“You make no charge,” said I, “for what I have had.”
“Nothing, sir; nothing.”
“But suppose,” said I, “I were to give you something by way of present, would you—” and here I stopped.
The woman smiled.
“Would you fling it in my face?” said I.
“O dear, no, sir,” said the woman, smiling more than before.
I gave her something—it was not a sixpence—at which she not only smiled, but curtseyed; then bidding her farewell I went out of the door.
I was about to take the broad road, which led round the hill, when she inquired of me where I was going, and on my telling her to Festiniog, she advised me to go by a by-road behind the house, which led over the hill.
“If you do, sir,” said she, “you will see some of the finest prospects in Wales, get into the high road again, and save a mile and a half of way.”