With her chattels and her sewing machine, Lisbeth entered number seven, which is in Park Villas, and separated from the railway by a wood paling, and from then on the sisters lived by the rare fruits of their joint industry; and never, except on the Sabbath, did they shed their thimbles or the narrow bright scissors which hung from their waists. Some of the poor middle-class folk near-by brought to them their measures of materials, and the more honorable folk who dwelt in the avenues beyond Upper Richmond Road crossed the steep railway bridge with blouses and skirts to be reformed. "We might be selling Cartref now," said Olwen presently. "I leave it to you," Lisbeth remarked. "And I leave it to you. It's as much yours as mine." "Suppose we consult Charlie?" "He's a man, and he'll do the best he can." "Yes, he's very cute is Charlie." Charlie gave an ear unto Olwen, and he replied: "You been done in. It's disgraceful how's she's took everything that were best." "She had nothing to go on with," said Olwen. "And it will come back. It will be all Jennie's." "What guarantee have you of that? That's my question. What guarantee?" Olwen was silent. She was not wishful of disparaging her sister or of squabbling with Charlie. "Well," said Charlie, "I must have an entirely free hand. Give it an agent if you prefer. They're a lively lot." He went about over-praising Cartref. "With the sticks and they're not rubbish," he swore, "it's worth five hundred. Three-fifty will buy the lot." A certain man said to him: "I'll give you two-twenty"; and Charlie replied: "Nothing doing." Twelve months he was in selling the house, and for the damage which in the meanseason had been done to it by a bomb and by fire and water the sum of money that he received was one hundred and fifty pounds. Lisbeth had her share, and Olwen had her share, and each applauded Charlie, Lisbeth assuring him: "You'll never regret it"; and this is how Charlie applauded himself: "No one else could have got so much." "The house and cash will be a nice egg-nest for Jennie," Olwen announced. "And number seven and mine will make it more," added Lisbeth. "It's a great comfort that she'll never want a roof over her," said Olwen. Mindful of their vows to their father, the sisters lived at peace and held their peace in the presence of their prattling neighbors. On Sundays, togged in black gowns on which were ornaments of jet, they worshiped in the Congregational Chapel; and as they stood up in their pew, you saw that Olwen was as the tall trunk of a tree at whose shoulders are the stumps of chopped branches, and that Lisbeth's body was as a billhook. Once they journeyed to Aberporth and they laid a wreath of wax flowers and a thick layer of gravel on their mother's grave. They tore a gap in the wall which divided their little gardens, and their feet, so often did one visit the other, trod a path from backdoor to backdoor.