s 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