“I cannot,” said I, “if I stay longer here I shall never reach Caer Gybi to-night. But allow me to ask whether your business at L--- will not suffer by your spending so much time on the road to market?”
“My wife takes care of the business whilst I am away,” said the man in grey, “so it won’t suffer much. Indeed it is she who chiefly conducts the business of the inn. I spend a good deal of time from home, for besides being a bard and inn-keeper, I must tell you I am a horse-dealer and a jobber, and if I go to Bangor it is in the hope of purchasing a horse or pig worth the money.”
“And is your friend going to market too?” said I.
“My friend goes with me to assist me and bear me company. If I buy a pig he will help me to drive it home; if a horse, he will get up upon its back behind me. I might perhaps do without him, but I enjoy his company highly. He is sometimes rather indiscreet, but I do assure you he is exceedingly clever.”
“The greatest prydydd,” said the man of the bulged shoe, “the greatest prydydd in the world.”
“Oh, I have no doubt of his cleverness,” said I, “from what I have observed of him. Now before I go allow me to pay for your next jug of ale.”
“I will do no such thing,” said the man in grey. “No farthing do you pay here for me or my friend either. But I will tell you what you may do. I am, as I have told you, an inn-keeper as well as a bard. By the time you get to L--- you will be hot and hungry and in need of refreshment, and if you think proper to patronise my house, the --- Arms, by taking your chop and pint there, you will oblige me. Landlord, some more ale.”
“The greatest prydydd,” said he of the bulged shoe, “the greatest prydydd—”
“I will most certainly patronise your house,” said I to the man in grey, and shaking him heartily by the hand I departed.