“And a very good thing too,” she replied.
“So that,” continued my father, “I shall have to help cut down the trees to build my own house, make my own furniture, and fence in the estate—in short, do everything.”
“Well, I don’t see nothing to grumble at in that, sir, so long as there’s plenty of wood,” said Morgan.
“There’ll be too much wood, my man,” said my father, smiling, “and we shall have to ply the axe hard to clear our way.”
“Any stone or slate, sir?”
“Plenty of stone, but no slate that I am aware of.”
“No,” cried Morgan, triumphantly. “I knew there’d be no slate. That proves as it won’t come up to Wales. There isn’t such a country for slate anywhere as Wales. Well, sir, but even if there’s no slate, we can make shift. First thing we do as soon as we get out, will be for me to rig the missus up a bit of a kitchen, and we shall take a few pots and pans in a box.”
“Oh, I shall go well provided with necessaries,” said my father.
“Then pray don’t forget a frying-pan, sir. It’s wonderful what the missus here can do with a frying-pan.”
“Do be quiet, Morgan Johns,” said Sarah.