Charlie, Lisbeth assuring him: "You'll never regret it"; and this is how
Charlie applauded himself: "No one else could have got so much."

"The house and cash will be a nice egg-nest for Jennie," Olwen
announced.

"And number seven and mine will make it more," added Lisbeth.

"It's a great comfort that she'll never want a roof over her," said
Olwen.

Mindful of their vows to their father, the sisters lived at peace and
held their peace in the presence of their prattling neighbors. On
Sundays, togged in black gowns on which were ornaments of jet, they
worshiped in the Congregational Chapel; and as they stood up in their
pew, you saw that Olwen was as the tall trunk of a tree at whose
shoulders are the stumps of chopped branches, and that Lisbeth's body
was as a billhook. Once they journeyed to Aberporth and they laid a
wreath of wax flowers and a thick layer of gravel on their mother's
grave. They tore a gap in the wall which divided their little gardens,
and their feet, so often did one visit the other, trod a path from
backdoor to backdoor.

Nor was their love confused in the joy that each had in Jennie, for
whom sacrifices were made and treasures hoarded.

But Jennie was discontented, puling for what she could not have,
mourning her lowly fortune, deploring her spinsterhood.

"Bert and me are getting married Christmas," she said on a day.