Page:My people stories of the peasantry of West Wales.djvu/177

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BE THIS HER MEMORIAL


to listen to His son’s voice; and another fear struck her heart.

“Dear little Big Man,” she muttered between her blackened gums, “do you now let me live to hear the boy’s farewell words.”

At that moment the Seller of Bibles raised the latch of the door.

“The Big Man be with this household,” he said, placing his pack on Nanni’s bed.

“Sit you down,” said Nanni, “and rest yourself, for you must be weary.”

“Man,” replied the Seller of Bibles, “is never weary of well-doing.”

Nanny dusted for him a chair.

“No, no; indeed now,” he said; “I cannot tarry long, woman. Do you not know that I am the Big Man’s messenger? Am I not honoured to take His word into the highways and byways, and has He not sent me here?”

He unstrapped his pack, and showed Nanni a gaudy volume with a clasp

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