ch he desired; and it came
to be that on a Thursday afternoon they two met at the mouth of Worship
Street--the narrow lane that is at the going into Richmond.

"Stand here, Marri," Evan ordered. "Go in will I and have words with the
owner. Hap I shall uncover his tricks."

"Very well you are," said Mary. "Don't over-waggle your tongue. Address
him in hidden phrases."

Evan entered the shop, and as there was no one therein he made an
account of the tea packets and flour bags which were on the shelves.
Presently a small, fat woman stood beyond the counter. Evan addressed
her in English: "Are you Welsh?"

"That's what people say," the woman answered.

"Glad am I to hear you," Evan returned in Welsh. "Tell me how you was."

"A Cymro bach I see," the woman cried. "How was you?"

"Peeped did I on your name on the sign. Shall I say you are Mistress
Jinkins?"

"Iss, indeed, man."

"What about affairs these close days?"

"Busy we are. Why for you ask? Trade you do in milk?"

"Blurt did I for nothing," Evan replied.

"No odds, little man. Ach y fy, jealous other milkmen are of us. There's
nasty some people are."

"Natty shop you have. Little shop and big traffic, Mistress Jinkins?"

"Quick you are."

"Know you Tom Mathias Tabernacle Street?" Evan inquired.

"Seen him have I in the big meetings at Capel King's Cross."

"Getting on he is, for certain sure. Hundreds of pints he sells. And
groceries."

"Pwf," Mrs. Jenkins sneered. "Fulbert you are to believe him. A liar
without shame is Twm. And a cheat. Bad sampler he is of the Welsh."

"Speak I do as I hear. More thriving is your concern."

"No boast is in me. But don't we do thirty gallons?"

Evan summoned up surprise into his face, and joy. "Dear me to goodness,"
he exclaimed. "Take something must I now. Sell you me an egg."

Evan shook the egg at his ear. "She is good," he remarked.

"Weakish is the male," observed Mrs. Jenkins. "Much trouble he has in
his inside."

"Poor bach," replied Evan. "Well-well. Fair night for to-day."

"Why for you are in a hurry?"

"Woman fach, for what you do not know that I abide in Wandsworth and the
clock is late?"

Mrs. Jenkins laughed. "Boy pretty sly you are. Come you to Richmond to
buy one egg."

Evan coughed and spat upon the ground, and while he cleaned away his
spittle with a foot he said: "Courting business have I on the Thursdays.
The wench is in a shop draper."

"How shall I mouth where she is? With