The clothier, whose skin was as hide which had been scorched in a
tanner's yard, bent over the counter. "Man bach," he exclaimed, "glad am
I to see you. Pray will I now that you are all Zer Garnett." His
thanksgiving finished, he said: "Wanting a suit you do."
"Yes, and no," replied the soldier. "Cheap she must be if yes."
"You need one for certain. Shabby you are."
"This is a friendly call. To a low-class shop must a poor tommy go."
"Do you then not be cheated by an English swindler." The clothier raised
his thin voice: "Kate, here's a strange boy."
A pretty young woman, in spite of her snaggled teeth, frisked into the
room like a wanton lamb. Her brown hair was drawn carelessly over her
head, and her flesh was packed but loosely.
"Serious me," she cried, "Llew Eevans! Llew bach, how are you? Very big
has the army made you and strong."
"Not changed you are."
"No. The last time you came was to see the rabbit."
"Dear me, yes. Have you still got her?"
"She's in the belly long ago," said the clothier.
"I have another in her stead," said Kate. "A splendid one. Would you
like to fondle her?"
"Why, yez," answered the soldier.
"Drat the old animal," cried the clothier. "Too much care you give her,
Kate. Seven looks has the deacon from Capel King's Cross had of her and
he hasn't bought her yet."
As he spoke the clothier heaped garments on the counter.
"Put out your arms," he ordered Kate, "and take the suits to a room for
Llew to try on."
Kate obeyed, and Llew hymning "Moriah" took her round the waist and
embraced her, and the woman, hungering for love, gladly gave herself up.
Soon attired in a black frock coat, a black waistcoat, and black
trousers, Llew stepped into the shop.
"A champion is the rabbit," he said; "and very tame."
"If meat doesn't come down," said the clothier, "in the belly she'll be
as well."
"Let me know before you slay her. Perhaps I buy her. I will study her
again."
The clothier gazed upon Llew. "Tidy fit," he said.
"A bargain you give me."
"Why for you talk like that?" the clothier protested. "No profit can I
make on a Cymro. As per invoice is the cost. And a latest style bowler
hat I throw in."
Peering through Llew's body, Saint David saw that the dealer dealt
treacherously, and that the money which he got for the garments was two
pounds over that which was proper.
Llew walked away whistling. "A simple fellow is the black," he said to
himself. "Three soverens was bad."
On the evening of the next day--that day being the Sabbath--the soldier
worshiped in Capel Kingsend; and betwixt the sermon and the benediction,
the preacher delivered this speech: "Very happy am I to see so many
warriors here once more. We sacrificed for them quite a lot, and if they
have any Christianity left in them they will not forget what Capel
Kingsend has done and will repay same with interest. Happier still we
are to welcome Mister Hughes-Jones to the Big Seat. In the valley of the
shadow has Mister Hughes-Jones been. Earnestly we prayed for our dear
religious leader. To-morrow at seven we shall hold a prayer meeting for
his cure. At seven at night. Will everybody remember? On
Monday--to-morrow--at seven at night a prayer meeting for Mister
Hughes-Jones will be held in Capel Kingsend. The duty of every one is to
attend. Will you please say something now, zer?"
Hughes-Jones rose from the arm-chair which is under the pulpit, and
thrust out his bristled chin and rested his palms on the communion
table; and he said not one word.
"Mister Hughes-Jones," the preacher urged.
"I am too full of grace," said Hughes-Jones; he spoke quickly, as one
who is on the verge of tears, and his big nostrils widened and narrowed
as those of one who is short of breath.
"The congregation, zer, expects--"
"Well-well, I've had a glimpse of the better land and with a clear
conscience I could go there, only the Great Father has more for me to do
here. A miracle happened to me. In the thick of my sickness a meetority
dropped outside the bedroom. The mistress fainted slap bang. 'If this is
my summons,' I said, 'I am ready.' A narrow squeak that was. I will now
sit and pray for you one and all."
In the morning Llew went to the One and All and in English--that is the
tongue of the high Welsh--did he address Hughes-Jones.
"I've come to start, zer," he said.
"Why wassn't you in the chapel yezterday?"
"I wass there, zer."
"Ho-ho. For me there are two people in the chapel--me and Him."
"Yez, indeed. Shall I gommence now?"
"Gommence what?"
"My crib what I leave to join up."
"Things have changed. There has been a war on, mister. They are all
smart young ladies here now. And it is not right to sack them and shove
them on the streets."
"But--"
"Don't answer back, or I'll have you chucked from the premizes and
locked up. Much gratitude you show for all I did for the soders."
"Beg pardon, zer."
"We too did our bits at home. Slaved like horses. Me and the two sons.
And they had to do work of national importance. Disgraceful I call it in
a free country."
"I would be much obliged, zer, if you would take me on."
"You left on your own accord, didn't you? I never take back a hand that
leave on their own. Why don't you be patriotic and rejoin and finish up
the Huns?"
Bowed down, the soldier made himself drunk, and the drink enlivened his
dismettled heart; and in the evening he stole into the loft which is
above the Big Seat of Capel Kingsend, purposing to disturb the praying
men with loud curses.
But Llew slept, and while he slept the words of the praying men came
through the ceiling like the pieces of a child's jigsaw puzzle; some
floated sluggishly and fell upon the wall and the roof, and some because
of their little strength did not reach above the floor; and none went
through the roof. Saint David closed his hands on many, and there was no
soundness in them, and they became as though they were nothing. He
formed a bag of the soldier's handkerchief, and he filled it with the
words, but as he drew to the edges they crumbled into less than dust.
He pondered; and he made a sack out of cobwebs, and when the sack could
not contain any more words, he wove a lid of cobwebs over the mouth of
it. Jealous that no mishap should befall his treasure, he mounted a low,
slow-moving cloud, and folding his wings rode up to the Gate of the
Highway.