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Mrs Hallam was going to do all she could for him. That’ll buck him up a bit. But I’m taking no chances. You know how upset he was last Monday?’
    â€˜Last Monday?’ Edwin for a week had been busy preparing a monograph for the Discussion Group proving that the Celt must at one time have been half drowned in ale and half crazed by lust to have been so busy scalping the drink trade and the flesh ever since.
    â€˜What happened last Monday?’
    â€˜Cynlais’ band and the Boys from Dixie went to the carnival at Tregysgod and Georgie Young didn’t finish last only because Cynlais was there before him. It’s enough to drive Matthew Sewell the Sotto off his head notes. Cynlais’ band lost points for obscurity and brazen indecency, so the judges said, and Georgie’s platoon was denounced as too sombre, too austere. It was a terrible day for Meadow Prospect. So I went to Kitchener Caney.’
    We drew closer. We were all astonished. Caney was a whimsical mixer of simples, a most inaccurate herbalist and healer.
    â€˜Caney the Cure?’ asked Uncle Edwin. ‘Caney the Herbs?’
    â€˜That’s him. Compared with Caney, Merlin was a learner. He was most interested when I told him about Cynlais. He says that slowness and sadness are both great evils and that somewhere in fields is some tiny plant that has the full answer to them both.’
    â€˜ A nd Caney’s the boy to find it. And when he spreads it around there’ll be no one around to be sad or slow.’
    â€˜He gave me a herbal concoction for Cynlais. He made no charge although the bottle he gave me was the largest I’ve seen containing herbs. It’s called “Soul Balm”. That’s what it says on the label. It makes the heart serene and oblivious and it sounds to like the sort of thing most of the voters ought to be belting at the livelong day.’
    â€˜Cynlais is certainly oblivious,’ said Edwin. ‘Look at him over there now. He looks as dull as a bat.’
    â€˜I got Tasso to slip Cynlais the balm in his last cocoa and for the next few hours his mind will be sunlit.’
    Cynlais came towards us. He was dejected and he was shooting his limbs perversely in different directions.
    â€˜Here he is now,’ said Gomer, very cheerfully. ‘Just look at him, Edwin. I’ve seen taller men, wiser men, but fitter and faster, never!’
    Cynlais gave us all a plaintive, pleading look. ‘I’ve just seen Moira over there, by that flagpole.’
    â€˜I see her. Eyes made to glow like headlamps by some artifice or other and her skirt three inches shorter than it was last week. Is this blatant provocation or is she tucking the thing up for wading?’
    â€˜Could I nip over and have a chat with her, Gomer?’
    â€˜Not before the race. She’s got even the flagpole bending over for a look. Keep your mind on the job in hand and think of the prize money that will get you out of those shameful costumes you wear as dervishes.’ Gomer scanned the field. ‘I see some very keen-looking athletes here. Boys who pause only to breed and feed. You’ll have to stay calm as a rock and sharp as a knife to win the prize against this competition. If you linger for any traffic with that Moira Hallam we’d have to launch you from the starting line on a stretcher and the Trecelyn Silver Band over there would have to switch from “ Anchors Aweigh” to that very slow piece from Saul.’
    Cynlais took one look at Moira Hallam. It was too much for him. He went bouncing towards her, using the same clownish and ataxic gait as before.
    â€˜Come back here, you jay,’ shouted Gomer. ‘Oh, dammo!’
    â€˜Caney the Cure is at work here,’ said Uncle Edwin. ‘He probably put some ingredient in that mixture that blows every gonad into a flame. In a moment you’ll see that Moira Hallam shinning up that flagpole and Coleman will be just one