"Prepare his sermons!" said Shanw indignantly. "Do you think Essec
Powell would write his sermon out like a clergyman and read it out like
a book? No, indeed! Straight from the 'brist'—that's how Essec
Powell preaches!"
"What time is the first meeting next day?"
"Oh, early, Ser—eight o'clock. Are you coming? Anwl! there's glad they'd be. You shall go on the platform with Price Merthyr and Jones Abertawe and all the rest."
"Saul among the prophets," said Cardo, laughing, and picturing himself among the solemn-faced preachers. "No, no; that wouldn't do, Shanw. What would my father say?"
"Well, well!" said Shanw, clicking her tongue against her teeth; "'ts, 'ts! 'tis pity indeed. But, there, everybody knows it is not your fault, Ser."
Cardo frowned, and fell into a brown study. It wounded him to hear his father blamed, and yet in his heart of hearts he wished he would so far temper his zeal with Christian charity as to attend the meetings which were moving the hearts of the people so much.
[1] "The old know, the young appear to know."
[2] Leek broth.
[3] Rodomontade.
[4] Peeped.