to go to St. David’s, and after all, if it hadn’t ’a-been you, it ’d ’a-been young Evan.  Why there’s bin some girls in the village have had two and even three babies before they settled down and got married.  Now we must dish up supper.  I’ve given you lots and lots of pancakes and the cream and honey you wass always so fond of—­you bad boy—­” She ventured a kiss on the smooth cheek of her nursling and heavily descended the stairs.

David had a very bad night, because to please his old nurse he had eaten too many of her pancakes with cream and honey.  In fact, he had at last to tip-toe down through a sleeping house cautiously to let himself out and relieve his feelings by pacing the verandah till the nausea passed off.  After that he lay long awake trying to size up the situation.  He got his thoughts at last into some such shape as this:—­

“It’s clear I was a regular young rake before I was sent up to London to be Praddy’s pupil.  Apparently I seduced the housemaid or kitchenmaid—­my father’s establishment seems to consist of Nannie who is housekeeper and cook, and a maid who does housework and helps in the kitchen—­and this unfortunate girl who fell a prey to my solicitations—­or more likely misled me—­afterwards gave birth to a child attributed either to my fatherhood or the gardener’s.  But the matter has been hushed up by a payment of twenty pounds and the girl is now married and respectable and ought to give no further trouble.  I suppose that was a climax of naughtiness on my part and the main reason why I was sent away.  The two people who matter most have received me without doubt or question, but the one to be wary about is the old nurse, whose very affection makes her inconveniently inquisitive. Mem. get up and lock my door, or else she may come in with hot water or something in the morning and take me by surprise.

“The original David is evidently dead and well out of the way.  There can be no harm in my taking his place, at any rate for a few years:  it may give the old man new life and genuine happiness, for I shall play my part as a good son, and certainly shall cost him nothing.  I’ll begin by taking him to an oculist and finding out what is wrong with his eyes....  Probably only cataract.  It may be possible to effect a cure and he can then finish his book on the history of Glamorganshire from earliest times.  Must remember, by the bye, that the Welsh change most of the old m’s into f’s and that this country is called Forganwg, with the w pronounced like oo, and the f like v.  Must learn some Welsh.  What a nuisance.  But nothing is worth doing if it isn’t done well.  If I can keep this deception up this would be a jolly place to come to for occasional holidays, and I simply couldn’t have a better reference to respectability, sex and station with the benchers of Lincoln’s Inn than ‘my father,’ the Revd.  Howel Williams, Vicar of Pontystrad.  They’ll probably want a second or a third reference.  Can I rely on Praddy?  Is it possible I might work up my acquaintance with that professor whom I met in the train?  I’ll see.  Perhaps I could attend classes of his if he lectures in London.”