and had always aimed at becoming what he called "a gentleman." No
wonder, then, that with his foot, as he thought, on the first rung of
the ladder, he was pensive and serious as he followed Morva homewards.

Ebben Owens, when he had risen from the tea table, had followed his son
into the farmyard, but finding no trace of him there, his face had
taken a troubled and anxious expression, for Will was the idol of his
soul, the apple of his eye, and a ruffle upon that young man's brow
meant a furrow on the old man's heart. He reproached himself for
having allowed "the boy" to proceed too far with his plans for entering
college before he had suggested that there might be a difficulty in
finding the required funds. After a long reverie, he muttered as he
went to the cowsheds:

"Well, well, I must manage it somehow. I must ask Davy my brother, to
lend me the money until I have sold those yearlings."

Not having the moral courage to open his mind to his son, he allowed
the subject to drift on in the dilatory fashion characteristic of his
nation; and as time went on, he began to allude to the coming glories
of Llaniago in a manner which soothed Will's irritation, and made him
think that the old man, on reconsideration, was as usual becoming
reconciled to his son's plans. As a matter of fact, Ebben Owens was
endeavouring to adjust his ideas to those of his son, solving the
difficulties which perplexed him by mentally referring to "Davy my
brother," or "those yearlings."

Will also took refuge, as a final resource, in the thought of his rich
uncle, the Rev. Dr. Owen, of Llanisderi, who, through marriage with a
wealthy widow, had in a wonderfully short time gained for himself