“Och, the scoundrel! I thought it of him. There, you Deb, where’s your mistress?”
“She’s—she’s gone, too,” Deb answered, shaking from her ankles up.
“Gone where?”
“To Qwyllyn.”
“I’ll go after,” he shouted, slamming the door.
Keturah sank back by the fire. “Well, indeed, well, indeed!” she said, with the peaceful accent of one who has accomplished an end, “they’re all off now. Ye’ve no need to cry, for what will be, will be,” she continued dryly to Deb, who was sobbing. “The old lady Jones will manage.”
“Och, but ’tis shockin’, shockin’; an’ they’ll never have him in Gelligaer again.”
“So ’tis. Well, they’re all on the road now. The master’s about at Dinas; Jane Elin, if her train’s on time, is at Llanengan; the widow Morgan, if her coach is makin’ good speed, is about at Abersoch; and Tudur’s just leavin’ Gelligaer. The old lady Jones will have her hands full, but she’s a wise old lady, a very wise old lady. ’Twill all get settled when she takes it up, aye, so ’twill.”