shandrydan

“Shandrydan,” they repeated quickly in order, and pointed to a small wooden wagon.

On a Friday afternoon in the June of the year 1880, a roomy old shandrydan, midway between a trap and a wagonette, moved slowly along the Porth Neigr and Llanyglo road.

Squire Wynne, the former owner of the Royal Hotel shandrydan, was the ground landlord of Llanyglo, and the reason of Edward Garden's Christmas call on him was—still quite simply and on Minetta's account—that he had decided to build and wanted certain land to build on.

Thus he intended to give her as a birthday-present a kind of cloth for a dress which would only have been suitable as a present to her maid; and he thought of driving to the church in an old shandrydan without springs, which would have made all the town laugh; and so on.

The door of the shandrydan burst open, and there emerged, in sadly rumpled state, a pitiable confusion of rustled petticoats and tumbled headgear, red as the roses on a summer's morn, and dewy as the grass on an autumn eve—six sœurs-de-charit�, all white and black like sea-fowl thrown from the shooter's bag—and after them, slowly toiling forth and writhing through the door in unwieldy porpoise-guise—M. le Cur�!