After service, Howell encountered John Pritchard. John, too, had heard that godless levity from afar. Others gathered round them by the gap in the thymy earth-wall, and John raised his voice on high. It shook with bitter zeal.
"We hear them in the Chap-pil, in the mid-dle of prayers, singing!" he cried. "On a Sunday morning they sing; they sing 'Thomas, make Room for your Uncle!' I said it was a den of li-ons, but indeed no li-ons ever behave so s'ock-kingly! They sing 'Thomas, make Room for your Uncle,' in the mid-dle of prayers, like if it was out of the belly of hell!"
Dafydd Dafis, whose head for a day and a half had drooped like a wet head of corn, gave a quick gleaming glance.
"They not build it any more quick than it can be pulled down again," he said quickly. "They come out of the house sometime to work, I think. They not gentry with lot of money, whatever."
And that was true. The Kerrs could hardly earn their living by drinking beer and having continually to mount guard over the house they had made.
"There will be no peace in Llanyglo now till Mr. Tudor Williams has been."
Dafydd Dafis's head drooped again.
"Indeed we do not need Mr. Tudor Williams for this," he muttered under his breath.
And the Kerrs themselves? Did they suppose they could plant themselves thus in the enemy's midst and not meet with hostile entertainment?
For this we may perhaps go once more to the gentleman without whose friendly help the Llanyglo Guide would have been done quite as well as it needed to be, and in half the time.