HUGH. Amen, I do!
MRS. JENKINS THE MIDWIFE. [Nodding her old head.] Aye, 'tis true.
MRS. JONES THE WASH. Yiss, yiss.
TOM MORRIS THE SHEEP. Amen, 'tis so.
DEACON ROBERTS. [Moving a few steps away from the fire, standing sidewise, and lifting hand to head, checking it in midair.] An' ye know that Bala has been a lake, an' Bala will become a lake?
HUGH. Amen, I do!
NELI. [Assenting for the first time.] Yiss, 'tis true—that is.
MRS. JONES THE WASH. Dear anwyl, yiss!
DEACON ROBERTS. [With warning gesture toward window.] Hell is out there—movin' beneath Bala Lake to meet all at their comin'. [Raises his voice suddenly.] Red-hot Baal stones will fall upon your heads—Baal stones. Howl ye! [Shouting loudly.] Meltin' stones smellin' of the bullocks. Howl, ye sinners! [Clasping his hands together desperately.] Scorchin' hot—Oo—o—o—Howl ye!—howl ye! [The Deacon's hat sways, and he jams it down more tightly on his head. Unclasping his hands and as if stirring up the contents of a pudding-dish.] 'Round an' round like this! Howl, ye sinners, howl!
[All moan and sway to and fro except Neli.