“Aye, it’ll be sacrificin’ somethin’ for the faith.”
“Och, you don’t understand,” Maggie cried; “I was born here, mother was born here—for hundreds of years we’ve lived in Isgubor Newydd!”
“Mam, it’ll be doin’ somethin’ for the faith,” Gabriel replied obstinately, in his voice the trumpet-sound of battle; “an’ I say I’d rather go than stay, whatever.”
“Och, father, father dear, how can ye? An’ we were married here an’ the little ones were born here, an’ when they come home where’ll they come to now?”
For an instant Gabriel looked bewildered, then said stoutly, “Tut, mam!”
“I can’t believe the young master did it,” continued Maggie, unsilenced; “lovin’ the house is most like lovin’ the children. Dear beloved, can’t you see?”
Without even a shake of the head Gabriel stared before him.
“Dad, I have——” Maggie hesitated, “I’ve three pounds put by for an ill day.”
“Well?”