Blair Collection > Rhys Lewis, minister of Bethel

178 RHYS LEWIS.
I give him a downer?" I tad only to answer "yes," and
Will would have used the poker on the instant. I, however,
told him to take care, for the Irishman was not a man to be
trifled with. Will, maintaining his grip of the poker, fixed his
eye upon that of the visitor as the chick does on the hawk
which is about to swoop down upon it, but with this diflference,
that Will was not afraid of the onset. I knew from his look
that had the Irishman laid a hand on mother, or tried to force
his way into the house, Will would not have stayed to consult
us as to what use he should put the poker. Mother and the
Irishman were, by this time, speaking so low that we could
catch but very few words of what they said. I understood
her to be exhorting him, earnestly and threateningly, to go
away. I noticed him look towards Will, and heard him say to
mother : — " Can he hold his tongue after to-night ? " I could
not make out my mother's answer, so softly was it given. All
of a sudden the two ceased speaking, and I saw the Irishman
peering in the direction of the 3" rd and turning pale in the
face. Still, he did not move from where he stood. A moment
later we heard footsteps approaching the house. In that brief
space I saw before me a guilty conscience which shook and
paralysed its owner. Next minute, a hand was laid upon the
intruder's collar, he himself was hurled aside and a voice with
which those walls had not resounded for two months past was
heard saying: —
" Holloa, gamekeeper ! what do you want here ? "
I saw no more of the Irishman that night. Bob and John
Powell walked in, shutting the door after them. I will not
attempt to describe my mother's joy and mine, because I should
be ashamed to see it on paper. However paradoxical it might
appear, the way in which we two testified our happiness was by
a hearty cry. Thinking the matter over, I fancy Will's method
of exhibiting his feeling was much the more reasonable one.
He walked, or rather danced, round the kitchen, whistling: —
" When Johnny comes marching home, my boys,"
and running the poker up and down his left arm as if it were
a fiddle bow. WiU had waltzed several times around before