Through Welsh Doorways Part 4

"Aye. Ye're a thoughtful man, Griffiths. Ye've done about everything could be done for this village. There ain't a man better thought of nor ye, except ye're a Conservative. But they ought to put ye on the Council just the same."

The caravan moved slowly into Bryn Tirion. At the rumble of wheels Olwyn thrust her head out of Cwm Cloch door, took one look at the moving load, and rushed into the back garden for Evan.

To Ty Isaf they hurried with the crowd; girls with water-pails dropped them; children staggering along under mammoth loaves of bread fresh from the oven tumbled them in the white dust of the road; mothers with babies strapped to them by shawls tightened the shawls and hastened along; old women put down their bundles of f.a.ggots; dogs ceased their quarrelling and children their playing, all rus.h.i.+ng in the same direction.

Griffiths and Jones were stripping away the crating.

"It's an organ for Chapel," said Marged Owen.

"It's a new pulpit," exclaimed Maggie Powell.

"It's a HEa.r.s.e!" cried Olwyn Evans, as the bagging was ripped from one side.

For an instant admiration made the concourse silent; then old Marslie Powell said softly: "If the Lord had 'a' asked me what I wanted most He could not've done better."

"Surely, it is the Lord's gift," affirmed Ellen Roberts.

"To think I'd live to see a real live hea.r.s.e!" shrilly exclaimed old Annie Dalben.

"It's a fine smart present, it is," said Howell Roberts, "an' there wouldn't no one else 'a' thought of it except Griffith Griffiths."

"It'll be pretty and tasty with mournin', now won't it!" commented Gwen Williams.

"It's a pity Jane Jones and Jane Wynne's too sick to be here an' see it when they're likely to have first chance at it!" declared Olwyn Evans.

"It'll be fine for the first as is buried in it," nodded Ellen Roberts wistfully.

"It'll be an honour," a.s.sented old Annie Dalben.

IV

_Bryn Tirion sees a Lighted Candle of the Dead and a Contest_

"The doctor from Tremadoc has been called in," remarked Betty.

"Has he so!" replied Griffiths, toasting his feet before the fire and eyeing the smiling cats benevolently. "He's a clever young man."

"Aye, but it won't save Jane Jones nor Jane Wynne."

"No?"

"The Joneses is havin' him come every other day, so the Wynneses is doin' the same. They're both failin' rapidly. When the family asks about Jane Jones, all he'll say is, 'She's no worse.' An' when the Wynneses ask about Jane Wynne he says, 'She's no better.' Olwyn Evans says it's her opinion he don't know which is worse; doctors, she thinks, has to keep quiet, they're always so uncertain what the Lord is plannin'. It'll be hard on Robert if they both die the same day an' he has to bury them simultaneous. Virginia says he's poorly now from havin' to make so many visits each day on the Joneses, to say nothin' of the neighbours flockin' in to ask him questions after each visit. It's hard on Robert."

"Aye, it is," a.s.sented Griffiths peacefully.

In the thirtieth year of the contest Griffith Griffiths had won his election; by the gift of the hea.r.s.e he put Bryn Tirion under a final obligation. Politics paled before the generations of dead who would be indebted to this benefactor. That a man should be a Conservative or a Radical mattered not to the dead, and the living must discharge for the dead their debt of grat.i.tude. But the outcome of this contest was quickly lost sight of in the uncertainty of a new strife. Would Jane Jones or Jane Wynne be buried first in the new hea.r.s.e? While Griffiths and Betty were still discussing this question the door-knocker clapped rapidly.

"I do believe it's Olwyn Evans come with news," exclaimed Betty.

"Good-evening," said Olwyn, disposing of her greeting. "She's seen it!"

"Seen it?"

"Aye, Gwen Williams. She was walkin' there by the old hedge over the Glaslyn this evening, an' first she thought it was a light in the old mill, for it looked large just like a lamp-flame. Then she saw it was movin' and it was comin' toward her."

"It was the Candle of the Dead she saw?" asked Griffiths.

"Aye, it was; the nearer it came the smaller grew the flame till it was no bigger than a thimble. Gwen was frightened so she couldn't move from the wall; she let it pa.s.s close by her, and it was a woman carryin' the light."

"A woman!"

"Aye, a woman, an' she moved on to the doorsill of Jane Jones's house an' stopped there."

"Jane Jones's?"

"Aye, an' then she went over to Jane Wynne's door an' stopped there."

"She did?"

"Aye, she did, an' then she went over to the graveyard an' waved her candle over the gate, an' it went out. Gwen says there weren't no more thickness to her than to the candle-flame,--ye could thrust your finger straight through her."

"Which door did she go to first--Jane Jones's?"

"Aye, it was Jane Jones's, but Gwen says she stood nearer the Wynne's plot in the graveyard."

Griffith's eyes sought the cats, and he pulled his side-whiskers thoughtfully. "Ye cannot tell which it'll be, now can ye?"

"No, you cannot, but I've my opinion it'll be Jane Jones, she's more gone in the face. I must be goin'; Betty, will you be comin' with me; I promised Gwen I'd step in for a neighbourly look at the Joneses, an'

perhaps I can help her decide which it'll be."

First they went to Jane Wynne's; they found her propped up in bed surrounded with a circle of interested neighbours. The doctor had just gone and the minister was on his way in. Old Marslie Powell curtsied gravely to the minister as he entered. "Dear love, she'll not last the night."

"Aye, aye," chorused the circle of neighbours, "her breath's failin'

now."

But in Jane Wynne's eye there was a live coal of intelligence; she beckoned imperiously with her scrawny old hand to the young minister.

"If I do, ye'll put it on the stone?" she whispered eagerly.

"Yes, Jane, Hugh will have it done."

"She's not long," said Olwyn to Betty; "let us be goin' to Jane Jones's."

They walked across the street.

"Poor dear," said Ellen Roberts to them as they entered, "she'll not last till morn. Her heart's beatin' slower a'ready."

"Aye, aye, she's failin'," a.s.sented the neighbours.