The farmer shook his head.
'It's a good sixteen mile,' he said, 'and it's going to be a wet evening. But if Miss—the lady from Ty-gwyn, meets you, it'll be all right. She'll have got a fly.'
A very slight misgiving came over Neville. He began to hope Aunt Clotilda would meet them. It would have certainly been more satisfactory had there been time to have had another letter from her after their deciding on Wednesday.
'Are we near Frewern Bay now?' he asked the farmer.
'In half an hour we should be there,' said he. Then he went on to tell them that he had been away for a day or two about a horse he was going to buy, and that he was going to stay the night at Frewern Bay with his daughter, who was married to the principal grocer there, and the next morning he should be going home to Hafod.
'Oh, do you live there?' exclaimed the children, with fresh interest.
'To be sure,' he said. 'Not a mile from Ty-gwyn. A pretty place it is, and many a time I've seen Master David when he used to be there as a boy.'
'And a sad pity it shouldn't be his own now he's a man,' said the other old farmer, by way of making amends for the speech which had so nearly given offence to Master David's children.
'Mr. Wynne-Carr will never live there. He has a fine place already. 'Twill be a pity to see Ty-gwyn let to strangers.'