A fire was set in the preacher's parlor and the doors of the Tabernacle
were opened. Tim, the Bible in his hands, stepped up to the pulpit, his
eyes closed in prayer, and as he passed up he stumbled.
Eylwin Jones heard the noise of his fall and ran into the chapel.
"What's the matter?" he cried. "Comic you look on your stomach. Great
one am I for to see jokes."
"An old rod did catch my toe," Tim explained.
Eylwin changed the cast of his countenance. "Awful you are," he reproved
Tim. "Suppose that was me. Examine you the stairs. Now indeed forget a
handkerchief have I for to wipe the flow of the nose. Order Winnie to
give me one of Enoch Harries. Handkerchiefs white and smelly he has."
"Ill is Winnie fach," said Martha.
"Gone she has for brief weeks to Wales," Tim added.
In the morning Eylwin came to the Tabernacle.
"Not healthy am I," he said. "Shock I had yesterday. Fancy I do a rabbit
from Wales for the goiter."
"Tasty are rabbits," Tim uttered.
"Clap up, indeed," said Martha. "Too young they are to eat and are they
not breeding?"
"Rabbits very young don't breed," remarked Eylwin.
"They do," Martha avowed. "Sometimes, iss; sometimes, no. Poison they
are when they breed."
"Not talking properly you are," said Eylwin. "Why for you palaver about
breeding to the preacher? Cross I will be."
"Be you quiet now, Martha," said Tim. "Lock your tongue."
"Send a letter to Winnie for a rabbit; two rabbits if she is small,"
ordered Eylwin. "And not see your faults will I."
Tim and Martha were perplexed and communed with each other; and Tim
walked to Wimbledon where he was not known and so have his errand
guessed. He bought a rabbit and carried it to the door of the minister's
house. "A rabbit from Winnie fach in Wales," he said.
"Eat her I will before I judge her," replied Eylwin; and after he had
eaten it he said: "Quite fair was the animal. Serious dirty is the
capel. As I flap my hand on the cushion Bible in my eloquence, like
chimney smoke is the dust. Clean you at once. For are not the
anniversary meetings on the sixth Sabbath? All the rich Welsh will be
there, and Enoch Harries and the wife of him."
He came often to view Tim and Martha at their labor.
"Fortunate is your wench to have holiday," he said one day. "Hard have
preachers to do in the vineyard."
"Hear we did this morning," Tim began to speak.
"In a hurry am I," Eylwin interrupted. "Fancy I do butter from Wales
with one pinch of salt in him. Tell Winnie to send butter that is
salted."
Martha bought two pounds of butter.
"Mean is his size," Tim grieved.
"Much is his cost," Martha whined.
"Get you one pound of marsherin and make him one and put him on a wetted
cabbage leaf."
The fifth Sunday dawned.
"Next to-morrow," said Martha, "the daughter will be home. Go you to the
jail and fetch her, and take you for her a big hat for old jailers cut
the hair very short."
"No-no," Tim replied. "Better she returns and speak nothing. With no
questions shall we question her."
Monday opened and closed.
"Mistake is in your count," Martha hinted.
"Slow scolar am I," said Tim. "Count will I once more."
"Don't you, boy bach," Martha hastened to say. "Come she will."
At the dusk of Friday Eylwin Jones, his goitered chin shivering, ran
furiously and angrily into the Tabernacle. "Ho-ho," he cried. "In jail
is Winnie. A scampess is she and a whore. Here's scandal. Mother and
father of a thief in the house of the capel bach of Jesus Christ. Robbed
Mistress Harries she did. Broke is the health of the woman nice as a
consequent. She will not be at the anniversary meetings because the
place is contaminated by you pair. And her husband won't. Five shillings
each they give to the collection. The capel wants the half soferen. Out
you go. Now at once."
Tim and Martha were sorely troubled that Winnie would come to the Chapel
House and not finding them, would go away.
"Loiter will I near by," said Tim.
"Say we rent a room and peer for her," said Martha.
Thereon from dusk to day either Tim or Martha sat at the window of their
room and watched. The year died and spring and summer declined into
autumn, when on a moon-lit night men flew in machines over London and
loosened bombs upon the people thereof.
"Feared am I," said Martha, "that our daughter is not in the shelter."
She screamed: "Don't stand there like a mule. Pray, Tim man."
Remembering how that he had prayed, Tim answered: "Try a prayer will I
near the capel."
So Martha watched at her window and Tim prayed at the door of the
Tabernacle.