Page:My people stories of the peasantry of West Wales.djvu/68



“What was that now, indeed, Mishtir Shinkins?”

“Why was you so dull? Sara Jane's portion, old boy.”

"Well-well, iss. Well-well, no. We're poor in Penrhos, Mishtir Shinkins. Poor.”

“Grudging you are with your money, Simon Penrhos.”

“Don’t he say like that. Make speech will I again with Beca.”

Mishtir Jenkins stretched his face towards Simon, and said:

“What would you say, Simon, if I asked you to give me Sara Jane’s portion this one small minute?”

“Waggish is his way, little Shinkins bach,” said Simon with pretended good-humour.

“My father had a farm and sovereigns and a cow when he wedded.”

“Open my lips to Beca I will about this,” answered Simon.

“Good, very,” replied Mishtir