[Footnote:  House-dwellers.]

‘No, I don’t,’ said Videy sharply.

‘It was at Llangollen Fair,’ continued Sinfi, her frank face beaming like a great child’s; ‘two little chavies we was then.  An’ don’t you mind, Videy, how we both on us cried when they put us to bed, ’cause we was afeard the ceilin’ would fall down on us?’

Videy made no answer, but tossed up her head and looked around to see whether there was a grinning servant within earshot.

‘Good-night, Sinfi,’ I said, shaking her hand; ’and now, Videy, I will show you your room.’

‘Oh, but Videy an’ me sleeps togither, don’t we?’

‘Certainly, if you wish it,’ I replied.

‘She’s afeard o’ the “mullos,"’ said Videy scornfully, as she went and stood before an old engraved Venetian mirror I had picked up at Chester, admiring her own perfect little figure reflected therein.  ‘Ever since she’s know’d you she’s bin afeard o’ mullos, and keeps Pharaoh with her o’ nights; the mullos never come where there’s a crowin’ cock.’

I did not look at Sinfi, but bent my eyes upon the mirror, where, several inches above the reflex of Videy’s sarcastic face, shone the features of Sinfi, perfectly cut as those of a Greek statue.

‘It’s the dukkerin’ dook [Footnote] as she’s afeard on,’ said Videy, smiling in the glass till her face seemed one wicked glitter of scarlet lips and pearly teeth.  ‘An’ yit there ain’t no dukkerin’ dook, an’ there ain’t no mullos.’

[Footnote:  The prophesying ghost.]

Among the elaborately-engraved flowers and stars at the top of the mirror was the representation of an angel grasping a musical instrument.

‘Look, look!’ said Sinfi, ’I never know’d afore that angels played the crwth.  I wonder whether they can draw a livin’ mullo up to the clouds, same as my crwth can draw one to Snowdon?’

I bade them good-night, and joined Panuel at the door.

I was conducting him along the corridor to his room when the door was reopened and Sinfi’s head appeared, as bright as ever, and then a beckoning hand.

‘Reia,’ said she, when I had returned to the door, ’I want to whisper a word in your ear’; and she pulled my head towards the door and whispered, ’Don’t tell nobody about that ’ere jewelled trushul in the church vaults at Raxton.  We shall be going down there at the fair time, so don’t tell nobody.’

‘But you surely are not afraid of your father,’ I whispered in reply.

‘No, no,’ said she, bringing her lips so close to my face that I felt the breath steaming round my ear.  ’Not daddy—­Videy!—­Daddy can’t keep a secret for five minutes.  It’s her I’m afeared on.’

I had scarcely left the door two yards behind me when I heard the voices of the sisters in loud altercation.  I heard Sinfi exclaim, ’I sha’n’t tell you what I said to him, so now!  It was somethin’ atween him an’ me.’