By Berwen Banks

Betto looked after him with uplifted hands and eyes.

"Well, indeed! there never was such a boy! always in some mischief; but

that's how boys are!"

Cardo went out whistling, up the long meadow to the barren corner,

where the furze bushes and wild thyme and harebells still held their

own against the plough and harrow; and here, sitting in deep thought,

and still whistling in a low tone, he held a long consultation with

himself.

"No! I will never try again!" he said at last, as he rose and took his

way to another part of the farm.

In the afternoon he entered his father's study, looking, in his manly

strength, and with his bright, keen eyes, out of keeping with this

dusty, faded room. His very clothes were redolent of the breezy

mountain-side.

Meurig Wynne still pored over apparently the self-same books which he

was studying when we first saw him.

"Sit down, Cardo," he said, as his son entered; "I have a good deal to

say to you. First, this letter," and he hunted about amongst his

papers. "It is from an old friend of mine, Rowland Ellis of Plas

Gwynant. You know I hear from him occasionally--quite often enough.

It is waste of stamps, waste of energy, and waste of time to write when

you have nothing special to say. But he has something to say to-day.

He has a son, a poor, weak fellow I have heard, as far as outward

appearance and bodily health go--a contrast to you, Cardo--but a clever

fellow, a senior wrangler, and an M.A. of his college. He has just

been ordained, and wants to recruit his health before he settles down

to a living which is in the gift of his uncle, and which will be vacant

in a short time; and as he offers very good remuneration, I don't see

why he shouldn't come here. He would be a companion to you. What do

you say to it?"

"As far as I am concerned, let him come by all means, if you wish it,

father; it can make no difference to me."

"Indeed it will, though! You will have to show him about the

neighbourhood, and lay yourself out to make his stay here as pleasant

as possible, for he will pay well."

"Pay!" said Cardo, with a frown, his sense of hospitality chafing under

the idea. "Pay! that spoils it all. If you take my advice in the

matter, you will write to your friend, and tell him to send his son

here by all means, but decline to take any remuneration."

"Cardo, you are a fool! Do you think I would take a stranger into my

house, to have him always at my table, upsetting all my domestic

arrangements, for nothing? You ought to know me better. Fortunately

for you, with your pride and extravagant ideas, I am here to look after

affairs, and hitherto, thank God, I have been quite capable of doing

so! I only consulted you on the matter because I wanted to know what

chance there was of your making yourself agreeable to the young man, as

I cannot be bothered with him."