Our hero having selected the songs that pleased him, waited impatiently for the return of the damsels. Having waited about an hour and a half, by which time all the fair people had dropped off, he discovered some symptoms of surprise, and asked the landlord if he knew what had become of the young women. He said he did not know, but that the whole party had paid him and gone off, and that he had no further business with them. Twm thought the ballad singer a singular good natured young woman, as she had left her bundle of melody with him, doubtless as a present, and merely taken herself away thus modestly, instead of ostentatiously proclaiming her gift, and receiving his thanks. Putting his hand into his pocket to settle his account, he was confounded on finding his two guineas gone; his terror, agony, and confusion was manifested to the landlord, by his sudden change of manner and appearance, who declared that his face was turned as white as the wall. Having searched every pocket over and over, at length the doleful tale came out that he had lost his money, and could not tell how. “Why as to that,” said the landlord with cool bitterness, “if it is any satisfaction to know _how_ you lost your money, I can tell you; it was by sitting between two thieves—a gypsy and a ballad singer, and what could you expect else from mixing with such cattle?” Poor Twm remained silent in a miserable mood, with his elbows resting on the table, and his temples in the palms of his hands for a full half hour, when the landlord disturbed his meditations by asking payment for his fare; good-naturedly adding, “If you have no money, I don’t wish to be hard with you, you can merely leave your jacket with me instead.” “My jacket!” quoth he indignantly, “why, that is ten times the value of what I owe you.” “May be so, but if you can’t pay you must leave it, and be thankful that I condescend to take it instead of cash;” replied the old gruffy. The fishermen in the mean time passed on him their rough jokes, one observing “You can sing ballads without a jacket, so I advise you to go on to the fair at Cardigan, where you may perhaps meet your old friends.” This advice, given in ridicule, Twm at once determined to take in earnest, and literally sing the ballads so as to turn them into money. So without more ado he took off his jacket and gave it to his host, muttering a curse on his cruelty, and commenced his journey to Cardigan. The dress of Cadwgan’s wife was again put on, not only as a fit disguise for his minstrel vocation, but as a more perfect guard against the weather than his own, since deprived of his upper garment; and in this garb, very low in spirits, and with no cheering prospects before him, he trod the miry road towards the county town. CHAP. XVI. Twm, disguised as a woman, sings ballads at Cardigan fair. Is alarmed on seeing an unexpected person. Takes a sudden departure from thence.