"Well, it's no good standing looking at it; we must all turn to, that's all.—Jane! Ellen!—Off with them jackets, and one of you make a fire while the other unpacks the groceries. The tea and things are in that box under the shawls—and to think we might have come in wet, and not even a winter-hedge to dry our things on!—There's no wood, you say? Wood enough, marry! I can see nothing else!—And the tea isn't there? Then run out and buy a quarter of a pound to be going on with; I won't have everything unpacked now, not in the middle of this joiner's shop!—Tell her where the grocer's is, Edward——"
And she threw off her lavender dolman and bonnet, and bustled about, like the capable creature she was, as ready to turn to as if she had never had a day's help in her life.
A little girl stood at the door, still describing rainbows from her forehead; but scarce had Ellen asked her where the grocer's was when there came up at a half run Howell Gruffydd himself, the keeper of the single shop of the place. He was in his shirt-sleeves, wore an old bowler hat, and wiped his hands on the coarse, white apron about his middle. Over his glasses Edward Garden watched his approach, but he did not speak. It was not anger that kept him silent. Already he had accepted fait accompli—or in this case inaccompli. Howell Gruffydd broke into sunny smiles of welcome.
"How d'you do, Mr. Garden? So you have arrived? How d'you do, madam? How d'you do, miss? You had a pless-sant journey?"
He beamed on each of them, and then beamed on them again.
"Do you know where Dafydd Dafis is?" Mr. Garden asked once more.
"Indeed I do not, Mr. Garden. Perhaps he maake fenss for Squire Wynne. Perhaps he fiss."
Then Howell Gruffydd's eyes fell on the boards as if he had not noticed them before. He gave a heartfelt "Aw-w-w!"
"It is not finiss! Dear me, dear me! Hwhat a pitt-ty!" Then he became cheerfully explanatory. "That will be old Mrs. Pritchard—Dafydd Dafis he that fond of her as if she wass his own fless and blood. She iss nine-ty, and for two weeks they have prayers for her in the chap-pil, and Doctor Williams, he come from Porth Neigr, and that is five s'illing, but the pains in her body was soa bad she not know hwhat to dooa!—And it was good fiss-ing these three weeks and more—and the man who bring the boards, he say they well season, but it do them no harm to wait a little while longer——"
Mr. Garden's eyes were still looking over his glasses.