Page:My people stories of the peasantry of West Wales.djvu/157

 But Pedr, open-mouthed, was standing in the cart; his large eyes looked upon the fertile land between him and Avon Bern, where grazed Sadrach’s cows, the best herd in the neighbourhood, and where flourished Sadrach’s corn, the most pleasing sight in all the land. Sadrach the Small threw at him a handful of horse-dung, which fell on Pedr’s open lips and the never-shaved hairs that curled on his chin.

“Pedr, indeed to goodness, there’s slow are you, man,” remarked Sadrach the Large.

“Praying was I, Sadrach bach, for strength to speak unto this gathering.”

“Sober now,” said Sadrach the Large, “you must not go as far as that.” Pedr took a text and spoke to the people, whereon one turned to the other, whispering: “Dull Pedr brays like a mule.”

From where he was lying on the ground Sadrach the Small cried: