"Hello! what's the matter, Betto?" said Cardo in Welsh; "what mischief
has Robin been up to now?"

"Machgen bach i (my dear boy!), is that you?" said Betto; "there's glad
I am! You are late to-night, and I was beginning to puzzle."

"Has my father missed me?"

"Well, indeed, he hasn't said anything," said Betto, hunting for the
frying-pan, and beginning to prepare the ham and eggs for supper. "But
where's that Robin?" she added; "a clout or two with the frying-pan
would not hurt his addle pate."

"He has been wise, and made himself scarce; but what has he done,
Betto?"

"What has he done? the villain! Well, you know the sheep are grazing
in the churchyard this week, and that 'mwnki' is watching them there.
Well--he seated himself yesterday on a tombstone when we were in
church, and whit, whit, whitted 'Men of Harlech' on his flute! and the
Vicare praying so beautiful all the time, too! praying against the
wiles of the devil and of Essec Powell!"

"Essec Powell! What has he been doing?"

"Well, machgen i, you will not believe! the boldness of those
'Methots' is something beyond! And the impidence of Essec Powell!
What do you think, Caradoc? he is _praying_ for your father--out loud,
mind you!--in the prayer-meeting every Wednesday evening! But there!