“Hush!” said another.
“Well, indeed,” answered a third, tapping her head significantly, “what would one expect when she’s not wise?”
“He’s goin’ in,” said a fourth.
While all eyes were upon Pedr, Catrin Griffiths had slipped away from their midst, slid along the wall, and stolen across the street. The look upon Pedr’s face was like a hot iron among her wretched thoughts, and hiss! hiss! hiss! it was cutting down through all those strings that had held her baggage of body and soul together.
Pedr made his way into the house and to the couch where Nelw lay.
“Nelw,” he said.
Nelw caught her breath between sobs.
“Nelw,” he repeated gently, sitting down by her, “there, little lamb!”
Nelw stopped crying.