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Updated: May 14, 2025
And Howel danced, and talked, and introduced his friends, and patronised everybody, much as if he had been a feudal monarch amongst his barons. Here and there might have been seen a suppressed smile, as one of the company whispered to another, 'Where is Mrs Griffey Jenkins to-night? What would old Griff, the miser, say to those diamonds?
'Look you! well to be seure! that's grander than I ever see. There's a church! Trees too! Who'd be thinking of trees in London? Well, name o' goodness, where are all they people going? That church 'ont hold 'em all! There's beauty! Is that St Paul's, Howel, bach! or the Monument? My Griffey was talking of them! There's houses! Seure that's Prince Albert's coach! There again!
Whilst Mrs Prothero was tenderly nursing her daughter, and gently assuring her of her love and forgiveness, Mrs Griffey Jenkins was discussing her arrival with the various domestics and the nurse, who went into an adjoining room to have her supper, where Mrs Griffey also had hers. Their conversation was carried on in an under voice, and between sips of gin and water, Mrs Griffey said,
'God bless you, Rowland, bach, said Mrs Griffey, springing up from her chair, and running to Rowland and kissing him vigorously a compliment, it must be confessed, he could have dispensed with. 'And you will be standing up for him, and be telling of his character and of his living at Abertewey and how he was so clever, and did never be doing anything wrong.
'I didn't be going to Abertewey since you was coming there, ma'am, said Mrs Griffey, rising and curtseying, to the unspeakable diversion of Mrs Rice Rice and Mr Deep.
'I am not having no intentions of marrying again, simpered the widow; 'wanst is enough. My poor Griffey. 'Quite right, cousin 'Lizabeth, wan Griffey is enough, in all conscience. The best tea things were duly arranged; cakes hot from the oven buttered; the best green tea put into the best teapot, and all proper honour done to Mrs Jenkins, from which she augured well for her Howels.
The kind word was too much for Netta, and she sat down and cried bitterly. Mrs Griffey tried to comfort her by crying too, and so the night waned away. The following morning the cab was sent for, according to Howel's order, and a man-servant ordered to accompany Mrs Griffith Jenkins to the station and see her off.
'There's a comfort Howel will be to you now! said a fifth triumphantly. 'Deed to goodness, Griffey Jinkins was a saving man, and you have lost him, Mrs Jinkins, fach, began the friend with the gin and water; 'but I am seeing no use in takking on so. When John Jones died, he was leaving me with ten children, and they have all come on somehow. And you have only wan son, and he is so ginteel!
Mrs Prothero sat 'washing her hands in invisible soap, whilst she saw these ensigns of grandeur in the once mean, ill-dressed Mrs Jenkins, and heard of all that 'her Howels' was about to effect. Owen came in, and with due gravity admired the mourning insignia, and examined the dates, age, etc., of the defunct Griffey. He went so far as to venture upon a distant allusion to the future.
Says I to my poor Griffey oh, dear, only to be thinking of him now! says I, "Let us be giving Howel a good eddication, and he so clever as never was, and able to be learning everything he do put his mind to, and never daunted at nothing grammar, nor music, nor Latin, nor no heathen languages, and able to read so soon as he could speak, and knowing all the beasts in the ark one from another, when he was no bigger than that," says I, to my poor Griffey; "oh, annwyl! we have only wan child, let him be a clargy, or a 'torney, or a doctor, or something smart," and says he, "I can't afford it."
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