“Oh, I know two words in Welsh,” said I; “bara y caws.”
“That’s bread and cheese,” said the man, then turning to a neighbour of his he said in Welsh: “He knows nothing of Cumraeg, only two words; we may say anything we please; he can’t understand us. What a long nose he has!”
“Mind that he an’t nosing us,” said his neighbour. “I should be loth to wager that he doesn’t understand Welsh; and, after all, he didn’t say that he did not, but got off by saying he understood those two words.”
“No, he doesn’t understand Welsh,” said the other; “no Sais understands Welsh, and this is a Sais. Now with regard to that piece of job-work which you and I undertook.” And forthwith he and the other entered into a disquisition about the job-work.
The company soon got into its old train, drinking and smoking and making a most terrific hullabaloo. Nobody took any farther notice of me. I sat snug in the chimney-corner, trying to dry my wet things, and as the heat was very great, partially succeeded. In about half-an-hour one of the girls came to tell me that my supper was ready, whereupon I got up and said:
“Gentlemen, I thank you for your civility; I am now going to supper; perhaps before I turn in for the night I may look in upon you again.” Then without waiting for an answer I left the kitchen and went into the other room, where I found a large dish of veal cutlets and fried bacon awaiting me, and also a smoking bowl of potatoes. Ordering a jug of ale I sat down, and what with hunger and the goodness of the fare, for everything was first-rate, made one of the best suppers I ever made in my life.
Supper over I called for a glass of whiskey-and-water, over which I trifled for about half-an-hour and then betook myself again to the kitchen. Almost as soon as I entered, the company—who seemed to be discussing some point, and were not making much hurly-burly—became silent, and looked at me in a suspicious and uneasy manner. I advanced towards the fire. The old man who had occupied the seat in the chimney-corner and had resigned it to me, had again taken possession of it. As I drew near to the fire he looked upon the ground, and seemed by no means disposed to vacate the place of honour; after a few moments, however, he got up and offered me the seat with slight motion of his hand and without saying a word. I did not decline it but sat down, and the old gentleman took a chair near. Universal silence now prevailed; sullen looks were cast at me, and I saw clearly enough that I was not welcome. Frankness was now my only resource. “What’s the matter, gentlemen?” said I; “you are silent and don’t greet me kindly; have I given you any cause of offence?” No one uttered a word in reply for nearly a minute, when the old man said slowly and deliberately: “Why, sir, the long and short of it is this: we have got it into our heads that you understand every word of our discourse; now, do you or do you not?”
“Understand every word of your discourse?” said I; “I wish I did; I would give five pounds to understand every word of your discourse.”
“That’s a clever attempt to get off, sir,” said the old man, “but it won’t exactly do. Tell us whether you know more Welsh than bara y caws, or to speak more plainly, whether you understand a good deal of what we say.”
“Well,” said I, “I do understand more Welsh than bara y caws—I do understand a considerable part of a Welsh conversation; moreover, I can read Welsh, and have the life of Tom O’r Nant at my fingers’ ends.”