Page:My people stories of the peasantry of West Wales.djvu/113

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THE GLORY THAT WAS SION’S


wrapped around him the patchwork quilt, and he went and sat by the fire.

“Madlen!” he cried. “Little Madlen, is not the old kettle boiling then? There’s slow mule you are! Come, make you a cup of tea now.”

From first to last Twm's years were five-and-forty.

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