"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