In seeking, some put their fingers on the leaves and advised Moses to cry unto the Lord in such and such a manner.

“My voice is dumb,” replied Moses.

Satan presently astonished the servants; he took the book to the Lord.  “My Lord,” he said, “which is the more precious—­good or evil?”

“Good,” said the Lord.

“More precious than the riches of Solomon is a deed done in your name?”

“Yes.”

“Though the sins were as numerous as the teeth of a shoal of fish?”

“So.  Unravel your riddle.”

“An old woman of the Dissenters,” said Satan, “claimed four tablets, whereas her deeds were nine.”

God looked at the Balance and lo, the scale of white tablets was heavier than the scale of scarlet tablets.

“Bid hither the apostles,” He commanded the Overseer, “for they shall see me, and this day they and their flocks shall be in Paradise.”

Satan stood before the face of Moses, glowing as the angels; and he brought out scissors to clip off the fringe of his beard.  When he had cut only a little, the Overseer entered the Judgment Hall, saying:  “The two apostles tricked Jude and crawled under the barrier, and they shot back the bolts of the gate of the Chariot House and called a charioteer to take them to Heaven.  ‘This is God’s will,’ they said to him.”

Satan’s scissors fell on the floor.

IV

EARTHBRED

Because he was diseased with a consumption, Evan Roberts in his thirtieth year left over being a drapery assistant and had himself hired as a milk roundsman.

A few weeks thereafter he said to Mary, the woman whom he had promised to wed:  “How now if I had a milk-shop?”

Mary encouraged him, and searched for that which he desired; and it came to be that on a Thursday afternoon they two met at the mouth of Worship Street—­the narrow lane that is at the going into Richmond.

“Stand here, Marri,” Evan ordered.  “Go in will I and have words with the owner.  Hap I shall uncover his tricks.”

“Very well you are,” said Mary.  “Don’t over-waggle your tongue.  Address him in hidden phrases.”

Evan entered the shop, and as there was no one therein he made an account of the tea packets and flour bags which were on the shelves.  Presently a small, fat woman stood beyond the counter.  Evan addressed her in English:  “Are you Welsh?”

“That’s what people say,” the woman answered.

“Glad am I to hear you,” Evan returned in Welsh.  “Tell me how you was.”

“A Cymro bach I see,” the woman cried.  “How was you?”

“Peeped did I on your name on the sign.  Shall I say you are Mistress Jinkins?”

“Iss, indeed, man.”

“What about affairs these close days?”

“Busy we are.  Why for you ask?  Trade you do in milk?”

“Blurt did I for nothing,” Evan replied.