To-morrow at seven we shall hold a prayer meeting for
his cure. At seven at night. Will everybody remember? On
Monday--to-morrow--at seven at night a prayer meeting for Mister
Hughes-Jones will be held in Capel Kingsend. The duty of every one is to
attend. Will you please say something now, zer?"
Hughes-Jones rose from the arm-chair which is under the pulpit, and
thrust out his bristled chin and rested his palms on the communion
table; and he said not one word.
"Mister Hughes-Jones," the preacher urged.
"I am too full of grace," said Hughes-Jones; he spoke quickly, as one
who is on the verge of tears, and his big nostrils widened and narrowed
as those of one who is short of breath.
"The congregation, zer, expects--"
"Well-well, I've had a glimpse of the better land and with a clear
conscience I could go there, only the Great Father has more for me to do
here. A miracle happened to me. In the thick of my sickness a meetority
dropped outside the bedroom. The mistress fainted slap bang. 'If this is
my summons,' I said, 'I am ready.' A narrow squeak that was. I will now
sit and pray for you one and all."
In the morning Llew went to the One and All and in English--that is the
tongue of the high Welsh--did he address Hughes-Jones.
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