se days; as soon as I can get things settled here.
Diwss anwl! I must make haste or the steamer will start with me
aboard. All right, captain, take care of her. She's a good friend to
me."

"Don't I know it?" said the old captain, shaking hands warmly with
both. "Didn't she come up with me about a month ago, and didn't I
direct her to safe lodgings? 'Fraid I was, man, that with her innocent
face and her wide tick pocket, she would be robbed or murdered or
something. But here you are safe again, little woman. Going home to
the old countryside?"

"Yes," said Sara, laughing. "I am quite safe, and I have spent a
pleasant time with Kitty Jones, but I am not sorry to leave your big
smoky town. Ach y fi! 'tis pity to think so many people live and die
there without sight of the sea and the cliffs and the moor. Poor
things! poor things!"

"Well! 'tis well to be contented with one's lot," said the old man,
"but I don't know how I would be now without a sight of the docks and
the shipping, and a yarn with my old comrades on the waterside
sometimes, but I am going to try it, whatever. Marged is grumbling
shockin' because I don't stop at home in our little cottage. It's a
purty place, too, just a mile outside Carmarthen, but quiet it is,
shockin' quiet! And you, Gethin Owens, little did I think these two
years I bin meeting you about the docks and the shipping, that you wass
the son of my old friend, Ebben Owens of Garthowen! Why din you tell
me, man?"

Gethin coloured with embarrassment, while he pretended to arrange a
sheltered seat for Sara, who came bravely to his assistance.

"And how could he know, captain, that you were the friend of his
father?" she said in Welsh, for she had gathered the sense of the
English talk between the two sailors.

"Well! that's true indeed," said the captain, scratching his head; "we
were both in the dark. But there's the bell! You must go, my lad, if
you won't come with us."

"Not to-day," replied Gethin, "but one of these next days I'll be
following that good little woman."

And when, from the edge of the wharf, he watched the little steamer
making her way between the river craft, Sara's red mantle making a
bright spot in the grey of the fog and smoke, his heart went with her
to the old homestead, his old haunts, and his old friends.

[1] "In the deep waters and the waves," a well-known and favourite hymn.

[2] Home sickness.

CHAPTER XXIII

TURNED OUT!