The squire at this time was seated at the head of the table, pushing about the bottle among his friends, principally formed of the neighbouring gentry. In the course of the day he had sent several times to know whether Twm had arrived. When little Pembroke at length went in to announce his return, he desired he should be immediately sent in, and Twm approached him with a burning cheek and an agitated heart. He questioned the youngster in an under tone, asking _if he had brought her_, and where he had been so long; to which Twm replied “Yes sir, I have brought her, and much trouble I had with her, for she didn’t like to come, thinking perhaps you meant her foul play; and once she escaped off the pillion into the mountain.” “The devil she did!” cried the squire, “but you caught her again?” “Oh yes sir, after losing much time, I have brought her here at last, and she is now much tamer than at first.” “A good lad Twm, a good lad, remind me to give you a guinea for this day’s work; but what have you done with her? where is she?” “Why sir,” cried Twm, “I tied her up to the manger and locked the stable door, to prevent her escape.” “Shame Twm, shame, you ought not to have done that, for she will think it was by my orders, and hate me perhaps for cruelty,” quoth the squire, thinking all the time that Cadwgan’s _lass_, and not his ass, was the subject of discussion. “No sir,” replies Twm, “but it is likely though, that she will have an ill will towards me, as long as she lives, for it.” “Well well,” said his master hastily, “take her from the stable into the housekeeper’s room, and tell Margery to comfort her and give her a glass of wine.” This was too much for Twm, and the smothered laugh burst out in spite of his efforts; on which, his master, with a severe brow, asked how he dared to laugh in his presence. “Indeed I could not help it,” cried Twm, “but I don’t think she ever drank a glass of wine in her life, and perhaps might not like it.” “Why that’s true; then tell the butler to give out a bottle of the sweet home-made wines for her—let it be a bottle of the cowslip wine, and say that I am very sorry for the trouble and vexation she has had.” “Yes sir,” cried Twm, who made his bow, and retired to the servant’s hall, where he made them acquainted with the squire’s freak of having Farmer Cadwgan’s ass brought there on a pillion behind him; and that it was his master’s orders that she was to be brought into the housekeeper’s room, and a glass of wine given to her, and that Margery was to make her comfortable.