“Ariel, I saw—the—men—laughin’ an’—an’ slappin’ their knees—an’—an’ pointin’ at the window—an’ even—little Silvan runnin’ by—laughed, an’ then when Betto Griffiths——” Janny faltered, gulping.
“Pooh, little lamb, Betto Griffiths!” exclaimed Ariel derisively, “Betto Griffiths is an ignorant woman. An’, dearie, didn’t ye hear them all askin’ me to help them to get windows like this?”
“But, Ariel, didn’t ye laugh at all?”
“I laugh, Janny! Why, dear,” answered Ariel slowly, “I think—the—window—is beautiful!”
“Oh, Ariel!” said Janny happily.
“Aye, I do; only if ye should have another idea, just tell me about it, dearie, beforehand, for it might—perhaps it wouldn’t,” he added gently, “make it awkward.”
“But, Ariel, I saw——”
“Well, dear, that’s enough—ye don’t understand these people quite yet. The window is beautiful; aye,” he continued, “I like it, so we’ll be sendin’ it to Liverpool to get a real stained-glass window something the same—aye, dearie, I can well afford it.”