NELI. [Resolutely.] Well, I will take it away from ye this noon till I am home again whatever!
HUGH. [Sulkily.] Sellin' groceries is not salvation. They sold groceries in Babylon; Deacon Roberts says so.
NELI. [Looking at book with ill-disguised eagerness.] I dunno as anybody ever found salvation by givin' away all he had for nothin'! 'Tis certain Deacon Roberts has not followed that way.
HUGH. [Still sulkily.] A man is his own master, I say.
NELI. [Absent-mindedly, her nose in the book.] Is he? Well, indeed!
HUGH. [Crossly.] Aye, he is. [Pointedly.] An' I was not plannin' to give away the book whatever.
NELI. [Closing volume with a little sigh, as for stolen delights, and speaking hastily.] An' I am not talkin' about acceptin' books, but about butter an' eggs an' cheese an' all the other groceries!
HUGH. Aye, ye'll get no blessin' from such worldliness.
NELI. [Absent-mindedly.] Maybe not, but ye will get a dinner from that unblessed worldliness an' find no fault, I'm thinkin'. [Her hand lingering on the book, which she opens.] But such wonderful theology! An' such eloquence! Such an understandin' of sin! Such glowin' pictures of Babylon!
HUGH. Aye, hot! I tell ye, Neli, there's no man in the parish has such a gift of eloquence as Deacon Roberts or such theology. In all Wales ye'll not find stronger theology than his.