Ebben Owens had not sold his yearlings.
"I wasn't going to give them away for half price, not I!" he said.
"I'd rather keep them till next fair." So Twm had driven them home again, and was even now turning them into the old cowhouse.
"Well! I have a wonderful piece of news to give you all," said Gwilym Morris, leaning back in his chair and diving deep into his pocket.
Having pulled out a canvas bag he laid it triumphantly on the table with a bang.
"What is it ?" said all, in a breath.
Gwilym did not answer, but undoing the pink tape which tied it, he poured out on the table forty glittering sovereigns.
"There!" he said, "what do you think; old Tim 'Penlau' paid me the 40 pounds he has owed me so long!" "Well, wonders will never cease!" said Ebben Owens.
"How long has he had them ?" asked Will.
"Oh! these years and years.

I had quite given them up, but he was always promising that when he sold his farm he would repay me.

Now they have come just in time to furnish the new house, Ann." "But why didn't you put them into the bank ?" asked Will.
"'Twas too late, the bank was closed; but I will take them in to-morrow." "I saw you talking to Gryny Lewis in the market," said Ebben Owens.
"What were you saying to him?
You weren't such a fool as to tell him you had received the 40 pounds ?" "Well, yes, indeed I did," replied Gwilym.
"Well, I wouldn't tell him.

Don't forget how he stole from Jos Hughes's till." "Well, indeed, I never remembered that.

Oh, I'll take care of them," he said, tying them once more in his bag, and returning them to his pocket.