Page:My people stories of the peasantry of West Wales.djvu/232

 That night Leisa heard the sound of gravel falling on the pane of her window. Through the hole in the pane she called out:

“You blockhead of a tadpole, is not the old ladder by the pigsty?”

Abram Bowen fetched the ladder and climbed into Leisa’s room.

“Bad jasto!” Leisa exclaimed, when she knew who her visitor was. “For why you was not Jos Gernos! Abram Bowen, you frightened me, man, you did.” A tallow candle burnt on the chair, and Leisa was on one side of the bed and Abram was on the other side.

“Put on petticoats now,” said Abram. “Not religious that I eye any of your naked flesh bach. But don't do that, Leisa; I'll blow on the old candle. How speak you then about Eisteddfod Morfa?”

At the end of the tenth day, when Nansi was pitching the last load of hay on to the stack, Jos Gernos came to the close of