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"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."
Benefit for many if I put down my religious thinks for a second New Testament. What say you, Eylwin Jones? Lots of says very clever I can give you 'is he sticking? A biggish paper was the black pasting about Walham Green Music Hall. What do you mean for that? And the posters for my between season's sale were waiting to go out."
At that they took their belongings into the three rooms that are below the chapel; and their spirits were lifted up marvelously that the Reverend Eylwin Jones and the deacons of the Tabernacle had given to them the way of life. In this fashion did Tim declare his blessedness: "Charitable are Welsh to Welsh. Little Big Man, boys tidy are boys Capel Tabernacle."
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.
But the mother am I." Tim said: "My inside shivers oddly. Girl fach too young to be in jail." 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.
"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.
"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?"
Sunday mornings Tim put a white india-rubber collar under the Adam's apple in his throat, and Martha covered her long, thin body in black garments, and drew her few hairs tightly from her forehead. Though they clad and comported themselves soberly Enoch Harries, who, at this day, was the treasurer and head deacon of the chapel, spoke up against them to Eylwin Jones.
"You cannot say less," said Eylwin Jones. "Pay they ought for this, the irreligious couple. As the English proverb 'There's no gratitude in the poor." "Another serious piece of picking have I," continued Harries. "I saw Tim sticking on hoarding. 'What, dear me, I mumbled between the teeth I don't speech to myself, man, as usual. The Apostles did, now. They wrote their minds.
"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."
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