FullReads

At the gate of the chapel men discussed Ben’s words; and two or three of them stole away and herded Gwen into the corner of the field; and they caught her and cut off her tail, and drove a staple into her udder. Sunday morning eleven men from Capel Dissenters, with iron bands to their clogs on their feet, and white aprons before their bellies, shouted without the church: “We are come to pray from the book.” The Parson was affrighted, and left over tolling his bell, and he bolted and locked the door, against which he set his body as one would set the stub of a tree.

Running at the top of their speed the railers came to Ben, telling how the Parson had put them to shame.

“Iobs you are,” Ben answered. “The boy bach who loses the key of his house breaks into his house. Does an old wench bar the dairy to her mishtress?”

The men returned each to his abode, and an hour after midday they gathered in the church burial-ground, and they drew up a tombstone, and with it rammed the door; and they hurled stones at the windows; and in the darkness they built a wall of dung in the room of the door.

Repentance sank into the Parson as he saw and remembered that which had been done to him. He called to him his servant Lissi Workhouse, and her he told to take Gwen to Deinol. The cow lowed woefully as she was driven; she was heard even in Morfa, and many hurried to the road to witness her.

Abel was at the going in of the close.

“Well-well, Lissi Workhouse,” he said, “what’s doing then?”

“‘Go give the male his beast,’ mishtir talked.”

“Right for you are,” said Abel.

“Right for enough is the rascal. But a creature without blemish he pilfered. Hit her and hie her off.”

As Lissi was about to go, Ben cried from within the house: “The cow the fulbert had was worth two of his cows.”

“Sure, iss-iss,” said Abel. “Go will I to Vicarage with boys capel. Bring the baston, Ben bach.”

Ben came out, and his ardor warmed up on beholding Lissi’s broad hips, scarlet cheeks, white teeth, and full bosoms.

“Not blaming you, girl fach, am I,” he said. “My father, journey with Gwen. Walk will I with Lissi Workhouse.”

That afternoon Abel brought a cow in calf into his close; and that night Ben crossed the mown hayfields to the Vicarage, and he threw a little gravel at Lissi’s window.

* * * * *

The hay was gathered and stacked and thatched, and the corn was cut down, and to the women who were gleaning his father’s oats, Ben said how that Lissi was in the family way.

“Silence your tone, indeed,” cried one, laughing. “No sign have I seen.”

“If I died,” observed a large woman, “boy bach pretty innocent you are, Benshamin. Four months have I yet. And not showing much do I.”

“No,” said another, “the bulk might be only the coil of your apron, ho-ho.”

“Whisper to us,” asked the large woman, “who the foxer is. Keep the news will we.”

“Who but the scamp of the Parson?” replied Ben. “What a sow of a hen.”

By such means Ben shifted his offense. On being charged by the Parson he rushed through the roads crying that the enemy of the Big Man had put unbecoming words on a harlot’s tongue. Capel Dissenters believed him. “He could not act wrongly with a sheep,” some said.

So Ben tasted the sapidness and relish of power, and his desires increased.

“Mortgage Deinol, my father bach,” he said to Abel. “Going am I to London. Heavy shall I be there. None of the dirty English are like me.”

“Already have I borrowed for your college. No more do I want to have. How if I sell a horse?”