Dramau Cymru

The Four-Leaved Clover (c1920)

Betty Eynon Davies

Ⓗ Betty Eynon Davies
Mae angen caniatâd cyn perfformio neu recordio unrhyw ran o’r ddrama.


	SCENE.─Kitchen in a farmhouse on a mountain in South Wales. The fireplace faces the audience, with a settle on one side and an oak arm-chair on the other. Door leading outside on the left wall at the back, window in same wall nearer. The dresser is against the right wall at the back, and a door leading to the back kitchen on the same wall nearer. Table in the middle, with oak chairs. The furniture is old and polished. The walls have pictures of ministers on them and one or two samplers. Guns and hams hanging up. IANTO, a young farmer, is sitting smoking in the armchair. CATRIN, his wife, young and pretty, in a check apron and a little red shawl, is darning on the settle.
Catrin	There's a bad boy you are, lanto Griffith. Look at that now! (Holds up a sock, with her fist through a hole in the heel.) I think you men like to see your wives sitting and darning big, big holes in your socks.
Ianto	(Smiling.) Talking like an old granny you are, girl, and you've only been married a month.
Catrin	Well, it's a long month, whatever. I'm feeling as if I'd been married for years.
Ianto	If you don't want to darn my holes, Catrin fach, there's mother will do it and be thankful. She's not at all willing for another woman to be mending my clothes. Very upset she was, I can tell you.
Catrin	(Fiercely.) Let your mother darn your socks, and me your wife? No, indeed, then! She's had it long enough; it's my turn now. Joking I was, Ianto bach. Why, the first time I ever saw you I said to myself, ''I wouldn't mind darning his socks for him.''
Ianto	I remember it well, cariad. At the big Singing Meeting it was, in the field behind Capel Mair, on Whit-Monday, last year.
Catrin	No, indeed, it wasn't then. Long before that, at Christmas, in the railway station at Penlan. Pouring with rain it was, and I thought I'd like your hair a bit shorter. There were little drops on the ends of it.
Ianto	(Passing his hand over is hair.) Oh! I went to the barber's this morning after selling the black pony, like you told me.
Catrin	There's a good boy.
Ianto	It's a queer thing, Catrin, I didn't see you till Whit-Monday. How could I have been near you and not seen you?
Catrin	And yet you seem to have looked at the girls a good bit, Ianto Griffith, for such a quiet young man!
Ianto	Well, Catrin fach, how could I write poetry about them if I didn't look at them now and then? And poets must write verses about girls. They all do.
Catrin	Who's this Myfanwy you've been writing about?
Ianto	Myfanwy? (Puzzling.) Well, let me see, now. Her hair was Mary Ann Jones's, but her eyes were Mari Llewelyn's─blue, blue like the sky, only with eyelashes like Elin the Mill, not light like Mari's. (Growing enthusiastic.) Then, she was tall─about the size of your sister Gwennie, and she had small hands like the girl at the Post Office, and a mouth like the one that used to sit behind the big pew in chapel─I never heard her name, but she had a sort of puce bonnet, and a mouth like a clove carnation.
Catrin	H'm! You'd better write poetry about mountains and things like that, now you're married, Ianto. It's more respectable. Or, perhaps it's time you left off writing it at all. It's queer for a farmer to be writing poetry, somehow. It's more the thing for a minister.
Ianto	Why should I stop, Catrin fach? I think poetry is the only way of telling the truth about some things like─like─ Well, the first time I saw you in the field at Capel Mair I felt as if I was turning the corner at Trecoon, and seeing the May tree there all in flower. So I made it into three verses, and it took the prize at the Penlan Eisteddfod.
Catrin	Ianto, why didn't you tell me before?
Ianto	(Puzzled.) Indeed, I couldn't say.
Catrin	How much was the prize?
Ianto	Ten shillings.
Catrin	Oh! (Pause.) Perhaps you'd better not leave off writing poetry, after all. You might get a prize at the National some day.
Ianto	Caton pawb, Catrin, an ignorant fellow like me in the National Eisteddfod? It's joking you are.
Catrin	No, indeed, I'm not. Why shouldn't you get twenty pounds and a carved chair like the minister at Bodewan?eWouldn't the chair look beautiful in the parlour?
Ianto	And what would you do with the twenty pounds? Buy a new sofa?
Catrin	Sofa, indeed! No, I'd put it in the Savings Bank, every penny.
Ianto	(Admiringly.) There's a wonderful lot of sense you've got, Catrin, for a bit of a girl. How much did you put in this week?
Catrin	Seventeen and six. Ten shillings for the eggs and chickens, and seven-and-six wedding presents. I had a penny each for the eggs with Ann the Shop-─only I let Lizzie Morgan have a dozen.
Ianto	You didn't make her pay a penny each, did you, Catrin? She always had them very cheap with mother, being she's a widow with eight children.
Catrin	That's what she said, but I didn't see why should she have them for less than Ann the Shop. They'd be more in the market; and, after all, there's three of them earning now.
Ianto	Yes; that's true. They're telling me that Emrys is getting 21s. a week at the pit. They can't be doing so badly now. But you let her have them cheaper next time, Catrin fach, there's a good girl.
Catrin	Very well, Ianto. (Goes and sits on the arm of his chair.) But it's you I'm thinking of all the time─and the children.
Ianto	The children?
Catrin	Our children─if we have any. Why shouldn't I think about them? Unless, perhaps, it's unlucky. Have you ever heard it's unlucky?
Ianto	No, no, cariad; I never heard so.
Catrin	Well, I want my children to have plenty of money when they're old enough, but first of all I want to save up enough to buy one Jersey cow, whatever, and then I'll be able to make more butter, and get more money for it, and have it in the Bank, ready against when they want it. Now, don't you think you've got a careful, saving wife, Ianto Griffith? IANTO (Kissing her) Yes, indeed. And you don't wish you'd married Lizzie Ann Morris instead?
Ianto	Diws anwyl, girl, I never thought of Lizzie Ann Morris for a minute, and I'm sure Lizzie Ann never thought of me.
Catrin	There's stupid men are! (Pause.) Ianto.
Ianto	Yes?
Catrin	Sir Watkin was here to-day again.
Ianto	Was he, fach? What did he want?
Catrin	There's dull you are, Ianto! I told you Sir Watkin came in on Monday about the pigs, and he saw the old coffer in the parlour, and asked me would we sell it.
Ianto	But we don't want to sell the old coffer, Catrin. It's been with the Pensarn people for hundreds of years.
Catrin	Yes, but─
Ianto	Well?
Catrin	Sir Watkin is a very nice gentleman, isn't he?
Ianto	You couldn't meet a better, fair play to Sir Watkin.
Catrin	There's unkind he'll think us (sighs) not to let him have an old coffer that's no use to us. Ianto, I can't keep the blankets in it any more. The lid's too heavy for me to lift.
Ianto	I'll lift it for you whenever you want.
Catrin	Yes, but─suppose you're up on the mountain after the sheep and I'm wanting a blanket in a hurry?
Ianto	Well, I must see what mother says about it first.
Catrin	(Pouting.) It's no use─she won't be willing. She was here to-day and crying when I told her.
Ianto	If she isn't willing I can't let Sir Watkin have it, that's all. Fair play to mother, it came from Pensarn─her old home─and she's polished it herself for thirty years.
Catrin	Yes, indeed, Ianto. Beautiful and shining it is, too. Sir Watkin said so. Feeling and feeling it he was with his finger. (Pause.) You were saying the other day the cowshed wanted a new roof? IANTO (Surprised.) Yes. It'll have to have one before the winter. How are you going to do it?
Ianto	(Sighing.) I don't know, indeed, cariad, after Benwen falling into the quarry. There's a loss of £20 to us.
Catrin	I wonder would Sir Watkin put on a new roof!
Ianto	I'd be ashamed to ask, Catrin. He's only just given us new gates for the fields.
Catrin	Ianto─Sir Watkin thought the world of that old coffer. He said he'd give ten pounds for it. And, perhaps, if we let him have it, he'll give us a new roof as well.
Ianto	(Looking at her with interest.) What did you tell him?
Catrin	(Meekly.) I said I'dask you. I wouldn't do anything without you were willing, Ianto, only I'd be sorry in my heart to vex Sir Watkin.
Ianto	And the lid's so heavy, you can't lift it? CATRIN (Sighing and stretching her arms.) Yes, indeed. And, after all, there isn't room for it in the parlour.
Catrin	No. It's so big; it fills up the place.
Ianto	Well, perhaps─Sir Watkin's a good landlord, it would be a pity not to please him.
Catrin	But what will your mother say?
Ianto	Well, after all, you're mistress of Dorwen now. Mother's had her day, and ought to be content. Thirty years is a long time.
Catrin	(Soberly, concealing her satisfaction.) Then will I tell Sir Watkin you're willing to let him have it?
Ianto	Yes. Mind you, I wouldn't sell it to any man but Sir Watkin.
Catrin	No, indeed. Sir Watkin's different. Oh, Ianto, there's glad I am. Ten pounds! And the roof of the cowshed.
Ianto	Perhaps we won't get that.
Catrin	Yes, we will. Wait you till tomorrow. (Kisses him on the top of his head.) There's happy I am here with you, Ianto. You're so kind. (Clock strikes nine.) Diws anwyl! It's time for supper.
	She jumps from the chair, and runs to lay supper. Sets table with dishes, etc. Brings oatcakes, cheese, and a jug of milk. When they are seated, one at each end, and are about to begin, there is a loud knocking at the door.
Catrin	Who's there, I wonder? It's loud enough for Sir Watkin himself.
	The door is flung open, and a little man stands on the threshold. He is old and withered, his boots are very muddy, he carries a fiddle. He looks at them calmly without saying a word for a time.
Old Man	Good evening to all here. That's a fine light you have in your window, Catrin Griffith. It shines to the other side of the mountain gate.
Catrin	What do you want, old man, at this time of night?
Old Man	(Coming a step into the room.) A bit of supper and a glass of beer─and a welcome if there is one.
Ianto	The poor and hungry are always welcome at Dorwen.
Catrin	But it's buttermilk you'll get and not beer.
Old Man	(Nodding at IANTO.) Don't you give your man there beer with his supper?
Catrin	No, indeed! Buttermilk's better for him than old beer. And he likes it better, too. Don't you, Ianto bach?
Ianto	(Sighing.) Yes, yes, cariad.
	OLD MAN looks at him grinning, and winks. Takes ancther step into the room, when he is stopped by CATRIN, who shrieks, and points to his feet.
Catrin	Diws anwyl! Look! Don't you put your feet on my floor until you've wiped them on the mat. All the muck of the world in my clean kitchen. For shame!
	OLD MAN goes back and wipes his feet.
Ianto	Where've you been to get all that on your boots?
Old Man	Over three mountains, and one of them the Black Mountain. (In a dream.) It's soft on the top now, and the smell of water everywhere, and the sound of it, too, among the rushes.
	Lifts his foot and looks at it, then from IANTO to CATRIN.
Ianto	That'll do, man. Sit you down and eat your supper.
	OLD MAN sits down, putting his fiddle on a chair. CATRIN fetches extra plates, etc., from the dresser. They begin the supper. OLD MAN (After a pause.) Oat-cake is good, Catrin Griffith, but oat-cake without butter is like goodness without kindness. CATRIN (Sharply.) Oat-cake without butter is good enough for you, whatever.
Old Man	How can you tell that, Catrin Griffith, when you do not know who I am?
Ianto	Haven't you got a little bit of butter for us, Catrin fach?
Catrin	No, indeed, Ianto. There's sorry I am! I'm a pound short this week, and I must save the butter up for the Plâs. Lady Llewelyn is giving me 2d. a pound more than market price. She says there's no butter like Dorwen butter. There's a pity I didn't know somebody was coming to supper. We could have gone without butter for dinner.
Old Man	Well, well, say no more.
	They go on eating, OLD MAN helping himself freely.
Catrin	Over three mountains you said? It's from Seven Sisters you are, perhaps, then?
Old Man	No, not Seven Sisters.
Catrin	Perhaps you come from Carno way? My Auntie Mari's husband was from there.
Old Man	No, not Carno.
Catrin	Llanilid then? I wonder would you know my granny at the Rhos Farm?
Old Man	No, not Llanilid.
	CATRIN is baffled.
Ianto	Never you mind, old man, if you're not willing to tell. It's God sends the hungry to our door. That's what my old grandfather used to say, whatever.
Old Man	Then, perhaps, it was He sent me, if that's true. But I'll tell you where I came from─from the east and from the west, and from the north and from the south. IANTO (Laughing.) Well, those are fine big places to come from!
Catrin	(Tossing her head.) There's a lot of old nonsense men talk! Will you tell us your name, Sir, if you've no objection.
Old Man	Gitto Fiddler they call me.
Catrin	(Clapping her hands) Oh, there's nice! Will you play us a tune after supper?
Old Man	No, I will not play a-tune. I've no delight in it to-night. But I will sing you a song if you wish.
Ianto	(Pushing cheese towards him.) Take you another bit of cheese. It's good Caerphili.
Old Man	I'll take a bit to put in my pocket, and thank you.
	Puts the whole piece in his pocket.
Ianto	Where are you going to sleep to-night, man? You're welcome to a bed here─(catches CATRIN'S eye)─in the barn. There's plenty of hay in there.
Old Man	Thank you, Ianto bach; it's not in the barn I'll be on a fine night in summer; and not in your best bed under your granny's quilt either; but lying up on Darren, waiting and waiting and waiting.
Catrin	Dear anwyl! Whatever for?
Old Man	(In a dream.) For the moon to come over the edge of the mountain.
	CATRIN stares. OLD MAN feels in lus pocket.
Old Man	Drato!
Ianto	What's the matter?
Old Man	Dropped my pouch in the water, coming over the river by the stones.
Ianto	Here you are, man.
	Holds out lis own pouch, OLD MAN fills his pipe.
Old Man	Is there a match with you?
	Both men light their pipes, and puff out smoke in contentment.
Ianto	It's a good thing to be smoking by your own kitchen fire and the hay all in.
Old Man	And it's a fine thing, Ianto bach, to be out in the world alive, to be going along the roads day after day, seeing all the sights─some new and some old.
Catrin	There's queer you talk, old man. There's no great sights to be had near Dorwen, whatever.
Old Man	There's the top of the Van in the sky above you.
Ianto	And there's the tree I was telling you about, at the corner by Trecoon.
Catrin	Pooh! Old poetry that is. Now, I like peopie to talk sense. OLD MAN (To himself.) Can a man talk sense to a woman? CATRIN (Good-humouredly.) There's cross you are! Go you and sit down by the fire, for me to be clearing the supper.
	IANTO and OLD MAN go and sit on the settle and armchair by the fire and smoke. CATRIN begins clearing the supper things, carrying them out to the inner room. OLD MAN knocks out his pipe.
Ianto	Now's the time to sing a song, if you're willing.
	The OLD MAN stands up and sings two verses of "All Through the Night," IANTO and CATRIN listening.
Ianto	Very good, very good, indeed. You must have been a fine singer in your time.
Old Man	Yes, indeed, I was. To hear me sing men would walk ten miles and women hold their tongues for ten seconds.
Catrin	For shame, old man!
Ianto	I'm sorry in my heart to see a good singer like you tramping the roads in rags, and you older than my own father.
Old Man	I'm luckier than he is, whatever. It's better to be an old tramp dragging his bones along in the wet than a rich farmer lying easy in his coffin.
Catrin	Don't talk like that. Ianto's father was a good man─a deacon he was─and he's now in heaven.
Old Man	In heaven, is he? Now, that's a place I would never want to go to.
Catrin	Caton pawb! Not want to go to heaven? Where d'you want to go, then? IANTO (To OLD MAN.) Why d'you say that?
Old Man	Weil, for one thing, there are no mountains to be had in heaven, only streets, like the streets of Cardiff─that's what they say in chapel, whatever.
Catrin	Golden streets they are.
Old Man	Gold or mud, it's all the same. A street is a street. Let me have the top of the mountain in summer and I'd be content for a thousand years─if only there was one curlew whistling down from the sky.
Ianto	And a few sheep calling.
Catrin	Did you never go to chapel?
Old Man	Yes; and there's where I met the devil. He goes to every chapel every Sunday. IANTO (Smiling.) Yes, indeed. Sometimes he comes and plays a game of draughts with me in the middle of the sermon. CATRIN (Staring in alarm.) Diws anwyl! Ianto. Don't talk like that. I don't like it. And if I don't go and wash those dishes we'll be up all night. (Looks with meaning at the OLD MAN.) And who's to get up to milk the cows in the morning? (Goes out with tray.) The mistress thinks it's time for me to be going.
Ianto	Where's your hurry, man? Sing one more song before you go. ''Mentra Gwen'' or ''Gwenith Gwyn ''─
Old Man	Oh, ho! Oh, ho! Love songs, is it? They all want love songs, and I can't think why.
Ianto	Were you never young yourself, man?
Old Man	Never so young as you. Here's a song for you: "Tra Bo Dau." (Sings.) Go, gentle dove, whom my dear love Has in her arms caressed. This message bear across the air Unto her faithful breast. Say Beauty's rose to meet me glows And starry looks are shot, But I so miss her loving kiss; Tell her to fear them not. Riches desert or deceive us, Beauty dissolves like the dew, Love will outlast the rudest blast, Wherever hearts are true.
Ianto	(Heartily.) Thank you, thank you. That's the kind of song for me.
Old Man	It's the kind of song for them all, I'm thinking. 'Tisn't a year ago since I was at the wedding of old Bryngwyn with the cobbler's daughter, Gweno. Duw! there's merry the old fellow was! Shouting to me to sing a song all about him and his little Gweno. So I sang them "Tra Bo Dau."
Ianto	And a very good song for a wedding.
Old Man	And when I was there at Easter time, old Bryngwyn was still merry and wanting "Tra Bo Dau" over again. But Gweno keeps her sweetheart's letters on the top shelf of the dresser in the green jug her granny gave her. That's what Ann, the servant, told me, whatever.
Ianto	(Indignantly.) A bad girl she is, then; and he's a fool.
Old Man	She's only twenty, Ianto bach, and he sixty-five, if he fas four farms as well as Bryngwyn.
Ianto	My Catrin is only twenty.
Old Man	Yes, yes─but you're one of the lucky ones. Anyone can see that. (Reflectively.) The queer thing is that old Bryngwyn thinks he's lucky, too. There's an old fool for you!
Ianto	Yes, indeed. To marry for a pretty face and nothing else with it. Now, there's my Catrin─one of the best girls in Wales. She got the medal in the Scripture examination! And clever─you never tasted such butter as she makes.
Old Man	No, no. IANTO (With enthusiasm.) And a fine little housekeeper. Not a crumb wasted. And not thinking from morning to night what to put on her back, like other men's wives, but putting a little in the Savings Bank every week. Is she, indeed, now?
Ianto	Every week. And pretty, too, mind you─the prettiest girl between here and Brecon. (Pugnaciously.) At least I never saw a prettier.
Old Man	Yes, yes.
Ianto	I'm the happiest man in Glamorgan.
Old Man	Yes, yes─you're lucky, Ianto Griffith. (Sighs.) Very few men are as lucky. Look at Meredith Pugh down Gwynfa way. His wife's a terrible screw. She'll sit all day in the market, and the rain pouring, to sell six-penn'orth of sour apples. And she gave the minister bread and pickled onion for supper. There's great talk about her─and I remember her well, a fine young girl.
Ianto	It's a pity when a man's wife brings a bad name on his house.
Old Man	But Meredith doesn't know it. Boasting he is all the time about his clever wife and his money in the bank.
Ianto	Then he's a fool, too.
Old Man	There's plenty of those to be had, Ianto bach. Marged Ann Price's John now, in the Rhondda. Twopence a week she gives him for tobacco, and him getting £3 at the works.
	IANTO bursts out laughing.
Old Man	Wait you a minute! She made him a coat out of her mother's flannel petticoat─a fine handsome petticoat it was, black with big red stripes, and five-and-twenty years old─everybody knew it. The men at the works were half killing him with their jokes, but he daren't leave it off.
Ianto	(Roaring with laughter.) She's one of those big stout women, I suppose; as strong as a horse.
Old Man	Marged Ann? Caton pawb, no! A little bit of a thing she is, very like your wife. (IANTO looks up sharply.) In face, I mean, not in nature.
Ianto	No, indeed; fair play to Catrin. She's not the kind of woman that wants to lead her husband by the nose─Catrin fach. It's I'm the master at Dorwen.
Old Man	That's right. I like to see a man put the women in their proper place. But, diawl! there's cunning they are! My old mother─and some called her a witch─used to say that every woman was a witch, putting spells on men and making them see what isn't there at all.
Ianto	Some women are like that, I've been told, but it isn't every man that can be taken in so easy.
Old Man	No, indeed─not men like you, but there's plenty like old Bryngwyn and Meredith Pugh and Marged Ann's John. They put me in mind of Dicky Dwl of Drim, counting cockle shells and thinking he'd found a golden treasure.
Ianto	Well, it made him happy, I suppose, after all.
Old Man	Yes, yes.
	Pause. Then he knocks out lis pipe and stands up.
Old Man	Well, it's time for me to be going─but here's something for you first.
	Takes a withered clover leaf from his coat and gives it to IANTO, who examines it curiously.
Ianto	A four-leaved clover!
Old Man	Don't you laugh at it, Ianto. There's a great deal of power in that little leaf. IANTO (Not understanding.) My mother says it's lucky to find one. It's more than lucky. My old mother used to say that if a man had a four-leaved clover about him 'twould keep him safe from any spells that anyone would be putting on him─and she was a gipsy and wise.
Ianto	But nobody wants to put spells on me.
Old Man	Never mind. Where's the harm in putting it in your coat?
	CATRIN comes in and looks disapprovingly at ihe OLD Man. IANTO puts the clover leaf in the button-hole of his coat.
Catrin	Oh! Thinking I was you'd gone.
Old Man	(Picking up his cloak and fiddle.) Good-night to all here.
Ianto	You're welcome to sleep in the barn─(hesitating)─or in the house. CATRIN (Quickly.) There's no room in the house, Ianto.
Old Man	Thank you, ma'am. (Bows low to her.) I'd sooner be the other side of the mountain gate. (Goes out.)
	There is a long pause. IANTO leans against the table and stares at CATRIN as if he had never seen her before.
Catrin	(Briskly.) Well, I'm glad he's gone, whatever, with his dirty boots and his wicked talk.
Ianto	(Slowly.) It's a pity you can be so hard to an old man, grudging him a bit of butter on his bread, and all for the sake of 2d. a pound.
Catrin	(Looks at him rather alarmed.) It's afraid I was of vexing Lady Llewelyn by sending her two pounds short.
Ianto	Well, if you couldn't give him butter to eat, you could have given him a kind word now and again. That wouldn't cost you a penny.
Catrin	What's the matter with you, Ianto? There's strange you are! Aren't you well?
Ianto	I've been blind, that's all.
	CATRIN stands twisting the fringe on her shawl and glancing uneasily at IANTO. Long pause.
Catrin	(Briskly.) I've been thinking what we'd better do with the ten pounds. There's a sale at the Velin next week, and they've got some Jersey cows. I wouldn't wonder if we could pick up a bargain─putting a little on to it.
Ianto	What ten pounds are you talking about?
Catrin	The ten pounds that Sir Watkin promised for the coffer, of course.
Ianto	There won't be any ten pounds. I'm not going to sell the coffer.
Catrin	(Raising her voice.) Not going to sell the coffer? Ianto! and we want a Jersey cow so badly, and now we won't get a new roof for the cowshed, and Sir Watkin will think us so queer─
Ianto	It's worse than queer I'd be if I sold the old coffer that my mother brought with her to Dorwen when she came here thirty vears ago, and that belonged to her mother and her grandmother before her─for the sake of a few old pounds.
Catrin	Perhaps, he'd give us more if we asked for it.
Ianto	(With disgust.) There you are again! Money is all you think about, and you a young girl. Can't you pity poor mother thinking the world of the old coffer and crying when you talked about selling it?
Catrin	(Beginning to cry.) It's not the money I'm thinking of, Ianto, it's your own good. I only want the Jersey cow for me to be able to make more butter, and─and─
Ianto	And get more money for it. And you making a widow with eight children pay the full price for a few eggs!
Catrin	(Indignantly.) There's three of them earning, and Emrys getting 21s. at the works. You said so yourself.
Ianto	It's a burden too heavy for a boy of fifteen. I don't want it to be said that Dorwen was squeezing the last half-penny out of Lizzie Morgan. Dorwen people haven't had the name for meanness up till now.
Catrin	You said you liked me to be careful and not waste money.
Ianto	It's a good thing to be thrifty, but it's a bad thing to be putting a price on everything, even the verses that a man makes for his own delight. And worse and worse you'll be every day of your life. (Putting his hand over his eyes.) I can see you an old woman, sitting in the market all day to sell six-penn'orth of sour apples, and the rain coming down─
Catrin	Ianto! Are you sorry you married me?
	They stand and gaze at one another. IANTO'S expression is full of horror. Then he frantically tears the clover from his coat and throws it on the fire, and stands breathing hard as if he had just escaped from a great danger. Pause.
Ianto	(Passing his hand over his eyes.) Catrin ─Catrin fach─what was I saying now just?
Catrin	(Sobbing.) Oh, cruel, cruel things.
	Sits down by the table and puts her head down on her arms.
Ianto	About what? I can't remember. There's a mist in my head.
Catrin	(Raising her head.) Saying you were that I was a mean stingy girl, who loved money better than everything in the world, and that I'd grow into an old screw who'd sit in the rain all day to sell six-penn'orth of sour apples.
	Puts her head down again.
Ianto	Caton pawb! (Goes and stands by her.) Catrin!─Catrin!
	No answer. IANTO pulls her up from the chair and puts his arms round her. She turns her head away.
Ianto	Don't you remember that old nonsense, cariad. Thinking I was of some old woman that the fiddler spoke about─not you at all.
Catrin	(Looking up.) Then you didn't mean me, Ianto?
Ianto	(Looking puzzled for a second.) No, cariad, of course not.
Catrin	And you don't think I'm a stingy old screw at all?
Ianto	No, indeed. You're the best little wife a man ever had. (Kisses her.) And the cleverest manager─(kisses her again)─and the prettiest girl in all Wales.
Catrin	(Smiling.) Not prettier than Myfanwy?
Ianto	Prettier than twenty Myfanwys.
	Short pause.
Catrin	What about the coffer, Ianto?
Ianto	The coffer, fach? We're going to let Sir Watkin have it.
Catrin	Oh! but I thought─you weren't willing.
Ianto	It would be a good thing to oblige Sir Watkin─and we want a new cow more than the old coffer─and it's too big and heavy for you to keep blankets in─so, Catrin fach, we'd better sell it.
Catrin	And what about your mother?
Ianto	(A puzzled look crossing his face.) Mother ─well, after all, cariad, it's you're mistress of Dorwen now─not mother.
	CATRIN goes to the dresser, takes a candlestick, and lights it. IANTO locks and bolts the door.
Catrin	What was it you threw into the fire now just?
Ianto	(A puzzled look crossing his face.) Oh! only some old rubbish of a four-leaved clover the fiddler gave me to put in my coat.
Catrin	There's a queer old man that was! I was afraid in my heart of him. Who d'you think he was, Ianto?
Ianto	Well, indeed, Catrin, I think he was the diawl himself.
	CURTAIN