By Berwen Banks

Cardo hesitated.

"Come along, Cardo; not all the Methodist preachers in the world can

frighten me back when I am on the track of a pretty picture."

In the old ivy-covered barn they found Valmai. The big door was open,

and in the dim, blue light of the shady interior, Shoni and she were

busily engaged with Corwen, who had been ailing since the previous

evening. Ellis was instantly struck by the picturesque beauty of the

group before him. Corwen, standing with drooping head, and rather

enjoying her extra petting; Shoni, with his brawny limbs and red hair,

patting her soft, white flanks, and trying, with cheerful chirrups, to

make her believe she was quite well again. Valmai stood at her head,

with one arm thrown round her favourite's neck, while she kissed the

curly, white forehead, and cooed words of endearment into the soft,

velvet ears.

"Darling beauty! Corwen fâch!"

Here Gwynne Ellis, irresistibly attracted by the scene before him,

boldly entered the barn.

The girl looked up surprised as he approached, hat in hand.

"A thousand apologies," he said, "for this intrusion; but my friend and

I were roaming about in search of something to paint, and my good

fortune led me here; and again I can only beg a hundred pardons."

"One is enough," said Shoni sulkily. "What you want?"

The painting paraphernalia strapped on Gwynne Ellis's back had not made

a favourable impression upon Shoni. He took him for one of the

"walking tramps" who infested the neighbourhood, and made an easy

living out of the hospitable Welsh farmers.

Valmai saw Shoni's mistake, and rebuked him in Welsh.

"There is nothing to pardon," she said, turning to Mr. Ellis, "and if

there is anything here that you would like to paint, I am sure my uncle

would be quite willing. Will I go and ask him?"

"Thank you very much; but if you go, the picture will be spoiled!"

But Valmai, taking no notice of the implied compliment, began her way

to the big door.

"This lovely white cow! do you think your uncle would allow me to paint

her?"

"Oh! yes, I am sure, indeed!" said Valmai, turning round; "but not

to-day, she has been ill--to-morrow she will be out in the field, and

then I will make a daisy chain for her, and she will look lovely in a

picture." And she passed out into the sunshine.

Gwynne Ellis heard a long-drawn "Oh!" of pleased surprise as she

discovered Cardo hovering about the door, and he considerately entered

into conversation with Shoni, endeavouring to express himself in his

mother-tongue, but with that hesitation and indistinctness common to

the dwellers in the counties bordering upon England, and to the

"would-be genteel" of too many other parts of Wales, who, perfectly

unconscious of the beauty of their own language, and ignorant of its

literature, affect English manners and customs, and often pretend that

English is more familiar to them than Welsh, a fatuous course of

conduct which brings upon them only the sarcasm of the lower classes,

and the contempt of the more educated.