MORNING SERIAL

IEUAN’S visits to the library became so frequent that the chief librarian and his assistants soon came to know him by name. They advised him on the latest additions to the bookshelves, reserved volumes for him, and did their utmost to help him in every way possible. It was not often that the librarian met so young a boy with such a thirst for knowledge. He encouraged Ieuan to read books on elementary psychology and economics, loaned him special editions on art and literature, and promised to obtain for him any volumes he needed from the Central Library in Cardiff.

And Ieuan read everything that was put before him. All was knowledge to be gained, and he garnered it like corn at harvest time. While he read, and became impervious to life around him, the depression swept through the town. Factory after factory emptied its workers into the long, straggling queues at the Employment Exchange. Even the three other foundries, which had been working on a part-time basis, finally pasted up “Closed” notices on the main gates.

In mid-August, Dick Morgan found himself without a job. Abermor became a derelict town.

Still Ieuan read. He formed a plan of study but it was unsatisfying, so one night he sought advice from his old headmaster.

Mr. Griffiths, grey-haired, bespectacled, welcomed him effusively.

“Come in, come in, Ieuan. It’s good to see you again.” He showed him into the front room and made him comfortable. “Well, my boy, how is life treating you these days? And the foundry — how do you like it there?” The headmaster regarded him gravely. “H’m! Never mind the latter inquiry, my boy.

I can see you haven’t — er — shall we say, you haven’t yet adapted yourself to the foundry. We’ll change the subject, shall we? Now, what brought you here tonight — anything troubling you, Ieuan?” Ieuan explained his reasons for calling.

“You should try and win a scholarship to the university,” was the headmaster’s counsel.