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Nine years after that day on which he had gone to Carmarthen Joseph said in his heart: “London shops for experience”; and he caused a frock coat to be sewn together, and he bought a silk hat and an umbrella, and at the spring cribbing he walked into a shop in the West End of London, asking: “Can I see the engager, pleaze?” The engager came to him and Joseph spoke out: “I have all-round experience. Flannelettes three years in Niclass, Cardiff, and left on my own accord. Kept the colored dresses in Tomos, Zwanssee. And served through. Apprentized in Reez Jones Carmarthen for three years. Refs egzellent. Good ztok-keeper and appearance.”

“Start at nine o’clock Monday morning,” the engager replied. “Thirty pounds a year and spiffs; to live in. You’ll be in the laces.”

“Fashionable this shop is,” Joseph wrote to Madlen, “and I have to be smart and wear a coat like the preachers, and mustn’t take more than three zwap lines per day or you have the sack. Two white shirts per week; and the dresses of the showroom young ladies are a treat. Five pounds enclosed for Nuncle.”

“Believe your mam,” Madlen answered: “don’t throw gravel at the windows of the old English unless they have the fortunes.”

In his zeal for his mother’s welfare Joseph was heedless of himself, eating little of the poor food that was served him, clothing his body niggardly, and seldom frequenting public bath-houses; his mind spanned his purpose, choosing the fields he would join to Penlan, counting the number of cattle that would graze on the land, planning the slate-tiled house which he would set up.

“Twenty pounds more must I have,” he moaned, “for the blaguard Nuncle.”

Every day thereafter he stole a little money from his employers and every night he made peace with God: “Only twenty-five is the wage, and spiffs don’t count because of the fines. Don’t you let me be found out, Big Man bach. Will you strike mam into her grave? And disgrace Respected Essec Pugh Capel Moriah?”

He did not abate his energies howsoever hard his disease was wasting and destroying him. The men who lodged in his bedroom grew angry with him. “How can we sleep with your dam coughing?” they cried. “Why don’t you invest in a second-hand coffin?”

Feared that the women whom he served would complain that the poison of his sickness was tainting them and that he would be sent away, Joseph increased his pilferings; where he had stolen a shilling he now stole two shillings; and when he got five pounds above the sum he needed, he heaved a deep sigh and said: “Thank you for your favor, God bach. I will now go home to heal myself.”

Madlen took the money to Essec, coming back heavy with grief.

“Hoo-hoo,” she whined, “the ninety has bought only the land. Selling the houses is Essec.”

“Wrong there is,” said Joseph. “Probe deeply we must.”

From their puzzlings Madlen said: “What will you do?”

“Go and charge swindler Moriah.”

“Meddle not with him. Strong he is with the Lord.”

“Teach him will I to pocket my honest wealth.”

Because of his weakness, Joseph did not go to Moriah; to-day he said: “I will to-morrow,” and to-morrow he said: “Certain enough I’ll go to-morrow.”

In the twilight of an afternoon he and Madlen sat down, gazing about, and speaking scantily; and the same thought was with each of them, and this was the thought: “A tearful prayer will remove the Big Man from His judgment, but nothing will remove Essec from his purpose.”

“Mam fach,” said Joseph, “how will things be with you?”

“Sorrow not, soul nice,” Madlen entreated her son. “Couple of weeks very short have I to live.”

“As an hour is my space. Who will stand up for you?”

“Hish, now. Hish-hish, my little heart.”

Madlen sighed; and at the door she made a great clatter, and the sound of the clatter was less than the sound of her wailing.

“Mam! Mam!” Joseph shouted. “Don’t you scream. Hap you will soften Nuncle’s heart if you say to him that my funeral is close.”

Madlen put a mourning gown over her petticoats and a mourning bodice over her shawls, and she tarried in a field as long as it would take her to have traveled to Moriah; and in the heat of the sun she returned, laughing.

“Mistake, mistake,” she cried. “The houses are ours. No undertanding was in me. Cross was your Nuncle. ‘Terrible if Joseph is bad with me,’ he said. Man religious and tidy is Essec.” Then she prayed that Joseph would die before her fault was found out.

Joseph did not know what to do for his joy. “Well-well, there’s better I am already,” he said. He walked over the land and coveted the land of his neighbors. “Dwell here for ever I shall,” he cried to Madlen. “A grand house I’ll build–almost as grand as the houses of preachers.”

In the fifth night he died, and before she began to weep, Madlen lifted her voice: “There’s silly, dear people, to covet houses! Only a smallish bit of house we want.”