"Ready am I, God bach," Towy exclaimed, stretching his hairy arms. "Take
me."
"Patiently I waited for the last Trump and humbly do I now wait for the
Crown from your fingers," said Ben Lloyd. "My deeds are recorded in the
archives of the House of Commons and the Cymrodorion Society."
"Clap up," Towy admonished Ben. "My religious actions can't be counted."
Lowering his eyes the Overseer murmured: "I am not the Lord."
"For why did you not say that?" cried Towy. He stepped to the Overseer.
"Hap you are Apostle Shames. A splendid photo of Shames is in the
Beybile with pictures. Fond am I of preaching from him. Lovely pieces
there are. 'Abram believed God.' Who was Abram? Father of Isaac bach.
Who made Abram? The Big Man. And the Big Man made the capel and the
respected that is the jewel of the capel. Is not the pulpit the throne?
Glad am I to see you, indeed, Shames."
The Overseer opened his lips.
"Enter with you will I," said Towy. "Look through my glassy soul you
can."
"Silence--" the Overseer began.
"Iss, silence for ever and ever, amen," said Towy. "No trial I need. How
can the Judge judge if there's no judging to be? Go up will I then.
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