"Will you destroy the just?" asked Moses.

"They have chosen."

"Shall the godly perish because of the godless?"

"I flooded the world," said God.

"The righteous Noah and his house and his animals you did not destroy.
And you repented that you smote every living thing. May not my Lord
repent again?"

"I am not destroying every living thing," God replied. "I am destroying
the vile."

"Remember Sodom and Gomorrah, Lot's wife and his daughters. They all
sinned after their deliverance. The doings of Sodom stayed."

Moses also said: "You gave your ear to Jonah from the well of the sea."

"I sacrificed my Son for man."

"And loosed Satan upon him."

"Is scarlet white?" asked God.

"Is justice the fruit of injustice? The two men were not of the Church,
and the Church may be holy in your sight."

"I have judged."

"And your judgment is past understanding," said Moses, and he sat at the
Balance.

The servants of the Lord spoke one with another: "I cannot eat of the
supper," said one; "The songs will be as a wolf's howlings in the
wilderness," said another; "The honey will be as bittersweet as Adam's
apple," said a third. But Satan exclaimed: "Come, let us seek in the
Book of the Watchers for an act that will turn Him from His purpose."

In seeking, some put their fingers on the leaves and advised Moses to
cry unto the Lord in such and such a manner.

"My voice is dumb," replied Moses.

Satan presently astonished the servants; he took the book to the Lord.
"My Lord," he said, "which is the more precious--good or evil?"

"Good," said the Lord.

"More precious than the riches of Solomon is a deed done in your name?"

"Yes."

"Though the sins were as numerous as the teeth of a shoal of fish?"

"So. Unravel your riddle."

"An old woman of the Dissenters," said Satan, "claimed four tablets,
whereas her deeds were nine."

God looked at the Balance and lo, the scale of white tablets was
heavier than the scale of scarlet tablets.

"Bid hither the apostles," He commanded the Overseer, "for they shall
see me, and this day they and their flocks shall be in Paradise."

Satan stood before the face of Moses, glowing as the angels; and he
brought out scissors to clip off the fringe of his beard. When he had
cut only a little, the Overseer entered the Judgment Hall, saying: "The
two apostles tricked Jude and crawled under the barrier, and they shot
back the bolts of the gate of the Chariot House and called a charioteer
to take them to Heaven. 'This is God's will,' they said to him."

Satan's scissors fell on the floor.




IV

EARTHBRED


Because he was diseased with a consumption, Evan Roberts in his
thirtieth year left over being a drapery assistant and had himself hired
as a milk roundsman.

A few weeks thereafter he said to Mary, the woman whom he had promised
to wed: "How now if I had a milk-shop?"

Mary encouraged him, and searched for that which he desired; and it came
to be that on a Thursday afternoon they two met at the mouth of Worship
Street--the narrow lane that is at the going into Richmond.

"Stand here, Marri," Evan ordered. "Go in will I and have words with the
owner. Hap I shall uncover his tricks."

"Very well you are," said Mary. "Don't over-waggle your tongue. Address
him in hidden phrases."

Evan entered the shop, and as there was no one therein he made an
account of the tea packets and flour bags which were on the shelves.
Presently a small, fat woman stood beyond the counter. Evan addressed
her in English: "Are you Welsh?"

"That's what people say," the woman answered.

"Glad am I to hear you," Evan returned in Welsh. "Tell me how you was."

"A Cymro bach I see," the woman cried. "How was you?"

"Peeped did I on your name on the sign. Shall I say you are Mistress
Jinkins?"

"Iss, indeed, man."

"What about affairs these close days?"

"Busy we are. Why for you ask? Trade you do in milk?"

"Blurt did I for nothing," Evan replied.

"No odds, little man. Ach y fy, jealous other milkmen are of us. There's
nasty some people are."

"Natty shop you have. Little shop and big traffic, Mistress Jinkins?"

"Quick you are."

"Know you Tom Mathias Tabernacle Street?" Evan inquired.

"Seen him have I in the big meetings at Capel King's Cross."

"Getting on he is, for certain sure. Hundreds of pints he sells. And
groceries."

"Pwf," Mrs. Jenkins sneered. "Fulbert you are to believe him. A liar
without shame is Twm. And a cheat. Bad sampler he is of the Welsh."

"Speak I do as I hear. More thriving is your concern."

"No boast is in me. But don't we do thirty gallons?"

Evan summoned up surprise into his face, and joy. "Dear me to goodness,"
he exclaimed. "Take something must I now. Sell you me an egg."

Evan shook the egg at his ear. "She is good," he remarked.

"Weakish is the male," observed Mrs. Jenkins. "Much trouble he has in
his inside."

"Poor bach," replied Evan. "Well-well. Fair night for to-day."

"Why for you are in a hurry?"

"Woman fach, for what you do not know that I abide in Wandsworth and the
clock is late?"

Mrs. Jenkins laughed. "Boy pretty sly you are. Come you to Richmond to
buy one egg."

Evan coughed and spat upon the ground, and while he cleaned away his
spittle with a foot he said: "Courting business have I on the Thursdays.
The wench is in a shop draper."

"How shall I mouth where she is? With Wright?"

"In shop Breach she is." He spoke this in English: "So long."

In that language also did Mrs. Jenkins answer him: "Now we shan't be
long."

Narrowing his eyes and crooking his knees, Evan stood before Mary.
"Like to find out more would I," he said. "Guess did the old female that
I had seen the adfertissment."

"Blockhead you are to bare your mind," Mary admonished him.

"Why for you call me blockhead when there's no blockhead to be?"

"Sorry am I, dear heart. But do you hurry to marry me. You know that
things are so and so. The month has shown nothing."

"Shut your head, or I'll change my think altogether."

The next week Evan called at the dairy shop again.

"How was the people?" he cried on the threshold.

Mrs. Jenkins opened the window which was at the back of her, and called
out: "The boy from Wales is here, Dai."

Stooping as he moved through the way of the door, Dai greeted Evan
civilly: "How was you this day?"

"Quite grand," Evan answered.

"What capel do you go?"

"Walham Green, dear man."

"Good preach there was by the Respected Eynon Daviss the last Sabbath
morning, shall I ask? Eloquent is Eynon."

"In the night do I go."

"Solemn serious, go you ought in the mornings."

"Proper is your saying," Evan agreed. "Perform I would if I could."

"Biggish is your round, perhaps?" said Dai.

"Iss-iss. No-no." Evan was confused.

"Don't be afraid of your work. Crafty is your manner."

Evan had not anything to say.

"Fortune there is in milk," said Dai. "Study you the size of her. Little
she is. Heavy will be my loss. The rent is only fifteen bob a week. And
thirty gallons and more do I do. Broke is my health," and Dai laid the
palms of his hands on his belly and groaned.

"Here he is to visit his wench," said Mrs. Jenkins.

"You're not married now just?" asked Dai.

"Better in his pockets trousers is a male for a woman," said Mrs.
Jenkins.

"Comforting in your pockets trousers is a woman," Dai cried.

"Clap your throat," said Mrs. Jenkins. "Redness you bring to my skin."

Evan retired and considered.

"Tempting is the business," he told Mary. "Fancy do I to know more of
her. Come must I still once yet."

"Be not slothful," Mary pleaded. "Already I feel pains, and quickly the
months pass."

Then Evan charged her to watch over the shop, and to take a count of the
people who went into it. So Mary walked in the street. Mrs. Jenkins saw
her and imagined her purpose, and after she had proved her, she and Dai
formed a plot whereby many little children and young youths and girls
came into the shop. Mary numbered every one, but the number that she
gave Evan was three times higher than the proper number. The man was
pleased, and he spoke out to Dai. "Tell me the price of the shop," he
said.

"Improved has the health," replied Dai. "And not selling I don't think
am I."

"Pity that is. Great offer I have."

"Smother your cry. Taken a shop too have I in Petersham. Rachel will
look after this."

Mrs. Jenkins spoke to her husband with a low voice: "Witless you are.
Let him speak figures."

"As you want if you like then," said Dai.

"A puzzle you demand this one minute," Evan murmured. "Thirty pounds
would--"

"Light is your head," Dai cried.

"More than thirty gallons and a pram. Eighty I want for the shop and
stock."

"I stop," Evan pronounced. "Thirty-five can I give. No more and no
less."

"Cute bargainer you are. Generous am I to give back five pounds for luck
cash on spot. Much besides is my counter trade."

"Bring me papers for my eyes to see," said Evan.

Mrs. Jenkins rebuked Evan: "Hoity-toity! Not Welsh you are. Old English
boy."

"Tut-tut, Rachel fach," said Dai. "Right you are, and right and wrong is
Evan Roberts. Books I should have. Trust I give and trust I take. I have
no guile."

"How answer you to thirty-seven?" asked Evan. "No more we've got, drop
dead and blind."

He went away and related all to Mary.

"Lose the shop you will," Mary warned him. "And that's remorseful
you'll be."

"Like this and that is the feeling," said Evan.

"Go to him," Mary counseled, "and say you will pay forty-five."

"No-no, foolish that is."

They two conferred with each other, and Mary gave to Evan all her money,
which was almost twenty pounds; and Evan said to Dai: "I am not
doubtful--"

"Speak what is in you," Dai urged quickly.

"Test your shop will I for eight weeks as manager. I give you twenty
down as earnest and twenty-five at the finish of the weeks if I buy
her."

Dai and Rachel weighed that which Evan had proposed. The woman said: "A
lawyer will do this"; the man said: "Splendid is the bargain and costly
and thievish are old lawyers."

In this sort Dai answered Evan: "Do as you say. But I shall not give
money for your work. Act you honestly by me. Did not mam carry me next
my brother, who is a big preacher? Lend you will I a bed, and a dish or
two and a plate, and a knife to eat food."

At this Mary's joy was abounding. "Put you up the banns," she said.

"Lots of days there is. Wait until I've bought the place."

Mary tightened her inner garments and loosened her outer garments, and
every evening she came to the shop to prepare food for Evan, to make his
bed, and to minister to him as a woman.

Now the daily custom at the shop was twelve gallons of milk, and the tea
packets and flour bags which were on shelves were empty. Evan's anger
was awful. He upbraided Mary, and he prayed to be shown how to worst
Dai. His prayer was respected: at the end of the second week he gave Dai
two pounds more than he had given him the week before.

"Brisk is trade," said Dai.

"I took into stock flour, tea, and four tins of job biscuits," replied
Evan. "Am I not your servant?"

"Well done, good and faithful servant."

It was so that Evan bought more than he would sell, and each week he
held a little money by fraud; and matches also and bundles of firewood
and soap did he buy in Dai's name.

In the middle of the eighth week Dai came down to the shop.

"How goes it?" he asked in English.

"Fine, man. Fine." Changing his language, Evan said: "Keep her will I,
and give you the money as I pledged. Take you the sum and sign you the
paper bach."

Having acted accordingly, Dai cast his gaze on the shelves and on the
floor, and he walked about judging aloud the value of what he saw: "Tea,
three-pound-ten; biscuits, four-six; flour, four-five; firewood, five
shillings; matches, one-ten; soap, one pound. Bring you these to
Petersham. Put you them with the bed and the dishes I kindly lent you."

"For sure me, fulfil my pledge will I," Evan said.

He assembled Dai's belongings and placed them in a cart which he had
borrowed; and on the back of the cart he hung a Chinese lantern which
had in it a lighted candle. When he arrived at Dai's house, he cried:
"Here is your ownings. Unload you them."

Dai examined the inside of the cart. "Mistake there is, Evan. Where's
the stock?"

"Did I not pay you for your stock and shop? Forgetful you are."

Dai's wrath was such that neither could he blaspheme God nor invoke His
help. Removing the slabber which was gathered in his beard and at his
mouth, he shouted: "Put police on you will I."

"Away must I now," said Evan. "Come, take your bed."

"Not touch anything will I. Rachel, witness his roguery. Steal he does
from the religious."

Evan drove off, and presently he became uneasy of the evil that might
befall him were Dai and Rachel to lay their hands on him; he led his
horse into the unfamiliar and hard and steep road which goes up to the
Star and Garter, and which therefrom falls into Richmond town. At what
time he was at the top he heard the sound of Dai and Rachel running to
him, each screaming upon him to stop. Rachel seized the bridle of the
horse, and Dai tried to climb over the back of the cart. Evan bent
forward and beat the woman with his whip, and she leaped aside. But Dai
did not release his clutch, and because the lantern swayed before his
face he flung it into the cart.

Evan did not hear any more voices, and misdeeming that he had got the
better of his enemies, he turned, and, lo, the bed was in a yellow
flame. He strengthened his legs and stretched out his thin upper lip,
and pulled at the reins, saying: "Wo, now." But the animal thrust up its
head and on a sudden galloped downwards. At the railing which divides
two roads it was hindered, and Evan was thrown upon the ground. Men came
forward to lift him, and he was dead.




V

FOR BETTER


At the time it was said of him "There's a boy that gets on he is," Enoch
Harries was given Gwen the daughter of the builder Dan Thomas. On the
first Sunday after her marriage the people of Kingsend Welsh Tabernacle
crowded about Gwen, asking her: "How like you the bed, Messes Harries
fach?" "Enoch has opened a shop butcher then?" "Any signs of a baban
bach yet?" "Managed to get up quickly you did the day?" Gwen answered in
the manner the questions were asked, seriously or jestingly. She
considered these sayings, and the cause of her uneasiness was not a
puzzle to her; and she got to despise the man whom she had married, and
whose skin was like parched leather, and to repel his impotent embraces.

Withal she gave Enoch pleasure. She clothed herself with costly
garments, adorned her person with rings and ornaments, and she modeled
her hair in the way of a bob-wig. Enoch gave in to her in all things; he
took her among Welsh master builders, drapers, grocers, dairymen, into
their homes and such places as they assembled in; and his pride in his
wife was nearly as great as his pride in the twenty plate-glass windows
of his shop.

In her vanity Gwen exalted her estate.

"I hate living over the shop," she said. "It's so common. Let's take a
house away from here."

"Good that I am on the premizes," Enoch replied in Welsh. "Hap go wrong
will affairs if I leave."

"We can't ask any one decent here. Only commercials," Gwen said. With a
show of care for her husband's welfare, she added: "Working too hard is
my boy bach. And very splendid you should be."

Her design was fulfilled, and she and Enoch came to dwell in Thornton
East, in a house near Richmond Park, and on the gate before the house,
and on the door of the house, she put the name Windsor. From that hour
she valued herself high. She had the words Mrs. G. Enos-Harries printed
on cards, and she did not speak of Enoch's trade in the hearing of
anybody. She gave over conversing in Welsh, and would give no answer
when spoken to in that tongue. She devised means continually to lift
herself in the esteem of her neighbors, acting as she thought they
acted: she had a man-servant and four maid-servants, and she instructed
them to address her as the madam and Enoch as the master; she had a gong
struck before meals and a bell rung during meals; the furniture in her
rooms was as numerous as that in the windows of a shop; she went to the
parish church on Sundays; she made feasts. But her life was bitter:
tradespeople ate at her table and her neighbors disregarded her.

Enoch mollified her moaning with: "Never mind. I could buy the whole
street up. I'll have you a motor-car. Fine it will be with an advert on
the front engine."

Still slighted, Gwen smoothed her misery with deeds. She declared she
was a Liberal, and she frequented Thornton Vale English Congregational
Chapel. She gave ten guineas to the rebuilding fund, put a carpet on the
floor of the pastor's parlor, sang at brotherhood gatherings, and
entertained the pastor and his wife.

Wherefore her charity was discoursed thus: "Now when Peter spoke of a
light that shines--shines, mark you--he was thinking of such ladies as
Mrs. G. Enos-Harries. Not forgetting Mr. G. Enos-Harries."

"I'm going to build you a vestry," Gwen said to the pastor. "I'll
organize a sale of work to begin with."

The vestry was set up, and Gwen bethought of one who should be charged
with the opening ceremony of it, and to her mind came Ben Lloyd, whose
repute was great among the London Welsh, and to whose house in
Twickenham she rode in her car. Ben's wife answered her sharply: "He's
awfully busy. And I know he won't see visitors."

"But won't you tell him? It will do him such a lot of good. You know
what a stronghold of Toryism this place is."

A voice from an inner room cried: "Who is to see me?"

"Come this way," said Mrs. Lloyd.

Ben, sitting at a table with writing paper and a Bible before him, rose.

"Messes Enos-Harries," he said, "long since I met you. No odds if I
mouth Welsh? There's a language, dear me. This will not interest you in
the least. Put your ambarelo in the cornel, Messes Enos-Harries, and
your backhead in a chair. Making a lecture am I."

Gwen told him the errand upon which she was bent, and while they two
drank tea, Ben said: "Sing you a song, Messes Enos-Harries. Not
forgotten have I your singing in Queen's Hall on the Day of David the
Saint. Inspire me wonderfully you did with the speech. I've been sad
too, but you are a wedded female. Sing you now then. Push your cup and
saucer under the chair."

"No-no, not in tone am I," Gwen feigned.

"How about a Welsh hymn? Come in will I at the repeats."

"Messes Lloyd will sing the piano?"

"Go must she about her duties. She's a handless poor dab."

Gwen played and sang.

"Solemn pretty hymns have we," said Ben. "Are we not large?" He moved
and stood under a picture which hung on the wall--his knees touching and
his feet apart--and the picture was that of Cromwell. "My friends say I
am Cromwell and Milton rolled into one. The Great Father gave me a child
and He took him back to the Palace. Religious am I. Want I do to live my
life in the hills and valleys of Wales: listening to the anthem of
creation, and searching for Him under the bark of the tree. And there I
shall wait for the sound of the last trumpet."

"A poet you are." Gwen was astonished.

"You are a poetess, for sure me," Ben said. He leaned over her.
"Sparkling are your eyes. Deep brown are they--brown as the nut in the
paws of the squirrel. Be you a bard and write about boys Cymru. Tell how
they succeed in big London."

"I will try," said Gwen.

"Like you are and me. Think you do as I think."

"Know you for long I would," said Gwen.

"For ever," cried Ben. "But wedded you are. Read you a bit of the
lecture will I." Having ended his reading and having sobbed over and
praised that which he had read, Ben uttered: "Certain you come again.
Come you and eat supper when the wife is not at home."

Gwen quaked as she went to her car, and she sought a person who
professed to tell fortunes, and whom she made to say: "A gentleman is in
love with you. And he loves you for your brain. He is not your husband.
He is more to you than your husband. I hear his silver voice holding
spellbound hundreds of people; I see his majestic forehead and his
auburn locks and the strands of his silken mustache."

Those words made Gwen very happy, and she deceived herself that they
were true. She composed verses and gave them to Ben.

"Not right to Nature is this," said Ben. "The mother is wrong. How many
children you have, Messes Enos-Harries?"

"Not one. The husband is weak and he is older much than I."

"The Father has kept His most beautiful gift from you. Pity that is."
Tears gushed from Ben's eyes. "If the marriage-maker had brought us
together, children we would have jeweled with your eyes and crowned with
your hair."

"And your intellect," said Gwen. "You will be the greatest Welshman."

"Whisper will I now. A drag is the wife. Happy you are with the
husband."

"Why for you speak like that?"

"And for why we are not married?" Ben took Gwen in his arms and he
kissed her and drew her body nigh to him; and in a little while he
opened the door sharply and rebuked his wife that she waited thereat.

Daily did Gwen praise and laud Ben to her husband. "There is no one in
the world like him," she said. "He will get very far."

"Bring Mistar Lloyd to Windsor for me to know him quite well," said
Enoch.

"I will ask him," Gwen replied without faltering.

"Benefit myself I will."

Early every Thursday afternoon Ben arrived at Windsor, and at the coming
home from his shop of Enoch, Ben always said: "Messes Enos-Harries has
been singing the piano. Like the trilling of God's feathered choir is
her music."

Though Ben and Gwen were left at peace they could not satisfy nor crush
their lust.

Before three years were over, Ben had obtained great fame. "He ought to
be in Parliament and give up preaching entirely," some said; and Enoch
and Gwen were partakers of his glory.

Then Gwen told him that she had conceived, whereof Ben counseled her to
go into her husband's bed.

"That I have not the stomach to do," the woman complained.

"As you say, dear heart," said Ben. "Cancer has the wife. Perish soon
she must. Ease our path and lie with your lout."

Presently Gwen bore a child; and Enoch her husband looked at it and
said: "Going up is Ben Lloyd. Solid am I as the counter."

Gwen related her fears to Ben, who contrived to make Enoch a member of
the London County Council. Enoch rejoiced: summoning the congregation of
Thornton Vale to be witnesses of his gift of a Bible cushion to the