The thatch reached low over the door, and its one window no bigger than a child's slate.

There were no signs of life, but Sara did not hesitate to raise the wooden latch and open the door, which she found unbolted.
In the murky gloom of the cottage it was difficult at first to see where the bed lay, but as space was circumscribed she had not far to look; in fact, one curtained side of the bed made the wall of the passage, and she had but to turn round this to see an old and wrinkled face asleep on the pillow.
"I must wake her, pwr thing," said Sara, and she began to call softly, "Nani, Nani fach!" The sleep of age is easily put to flight, and Nani opened her eyes.
"Sara ''spridion'!" she said, in astonishment.

"Sara Lloyd, I mean, but I was dreaming, Sara dear.

What is it ?" and she sat up not a little disturbed, for Sara's name alone sufficed to arouse the latent fear of the "hysbis" or occult, always lurking in the Celtic mind.
Sara only smiled as the word "'spridion" escaped the frightened woman's lips.
"Is it time to get up ?" she said, beginning to rub her eyes.
"No, no," said Sara, taking a seat by the bedside, and leaning upon her stick.

"Lie still, Nani fach, and forgive me for awaking you, but I am going a journey, and a journey that won't wait." "Oh, dear!" said Nani, "are you going by the old tren, then?
As for me, I'm too frightened of it to go and see my own daughter.