"Twenty pounds more must I have," he moaned, "for the blaguard Nuncle."
Every day thereafter he stole a little money from his employers and every night he made peace with God: "Only twenty-five is the wage, and spiffs don't count because of the fines. Don't you let me be found out, Big Man bach. Will you strike mam into her grave? And disgrace Respected Essec Pugh Capel Moriah?"
He did not abate his energies howsoever hard his disease was wasting and destroying him. The men who lodged in his bedroom grew angry with him. "How can we sleep with your dam coughing?" they cried. "Why don't you invest in a second-hand coffin?"
Feared that the women whom he served would complain that the poison of his sickness was tainting them and that he would be sent away, Joseph increased his pilferings; where he had stolen a shilling he now stole two shillings; and when he got five pounds above the sum he needed, he heaved a deep sigh and said: "Thank you for your favor, God bach. I will now go home to heal myself."
Madlen took the money to Essec, coming back heavy with grief.
"Hoo-hoo," she whined, "the ninety has bought only the land. Selling the houses is Essec."
"Wrong there is," said Joseph. "Probe deeply we must."
From their puzzlings Madlen said: "What will you do?"
"Go and charge swindler Moriah."
"Meddle not with him. Strong he is with the Lord."