THE "SCIET" "Art going to chapel to-night, Morva ?" said Ebben Owens on the following Sunday afternoon, as he sat smoking in the chimney-corner, Tudor beside him gazing rather mournfully into the fire.

He was looking ill and worn, and spoke in a low, husky voice.

He had sat there lost in thought ever since he had pushed away his almost untasted dinner.
"Yes," said Morva, "I am going; but mother is not coming to-night; she doesn't like the Sciet, you know." "She is an odd woman," said Ann.

"Not like the Sciet indeed! If I didn't love her so much I would be very angry with her." Morva flushed.
"She is very different to other people, I know; but she is a good woman whatever." "Yes, yes, yes," said Ebben Owens emphatically; "but why doesn't she like the Sciet ?" "Oh! that's what she is saying," answered the girl, "that she doesn't see the use of people standing up to confess half their sins and keeping back the other and the worst half.

She has been talking to Gwilym Morris about it, and he is agreeing with her." "Och fi!" sighed the old man, relapsing into his moody silence, from which not even little Gwyl's chatter was able to rouse him.
At last when the cheerful sound of the tea-things, and Ann's oft-repeated summons, recalled him to outward surroundings, he rose as if wearily, and drew his chair to the table, where, stooping more and more over his tea, Ann detected a tear furtively wiped away.
"You won't take little Gwyl to chapel to-night, will you?
'tis rather damp," he said, though it was really a clear twilight.
"No, no," said Ann, "Magw will take care of him at home." Gwilym helped the old man to change his coat.
"Where are his gloves, Ann, and his best hat?
There's grand he'll be!" But there was no answering smile on his father-in-law's face.
"Twt, twt," he said, "there is no need of gloves for me, and I won't wear my best hat, give me my old one." He sighed heavily as with bent head, and hands buried deep in his coat pockets, he followed Ann and her husband down the stony road to the valley where Penmorien Chapel lay.