In this fashion did Tim declare his blessedness: "Charitable are Welsh
to Welsh. Little Big Man, boys tidy are boys Capel Tabernacle."
"What if we were old atheists?" cried Martha.
"Wife fach, don't you send me in a fright," Tim said.
They two applied themselves to their tasks: the woman washed the linen
and cleaned the doorsteps and the houses of her neighbors, the man put
posters on hoardings, trimmed gardens, stood at the doors of Welsh
gatherings. By night they mustered, sweeping the floor of the chapel,
polishing the wood and brass that were therein, and beating the cushions
and hassocks which were in the pews of the most honored of the
congregation. Sunday mornings Tim put a white india-rubber collar under
the Adam's apple in his throat, and Martha covered her long, thin body
in black garments, and drew her few hairs tightly from her forehead.
Though they clad and comported themselves soberly Enoch Harries, who, at
this day, was the treasurer and head deacon of the chapel, spoke up
against them to Eylwin Jones. This is his complaint: "Careless was Tim
in the dispatch department, delivering the parcel always to the wrong
customers and for why he was sacked.
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