to the exclusion of everything else.
That I was perfectly willing to do.
But to share it with another...
Do you think I will
have you going threadbare,
depending on the charity
of others for your good meals?
Our children growing up in cast-off clothing,
and ourselves thanking God for
parenthood in a house full of bits?
No. I can bear with such a life
for the sake of my work,
but I think I'd start to kill if...
if I saw the white come to your hair
20 years before its time.
Why?
Why would you start to kill?
Are you a man or a saint?
I am no saint. But I have a duty towards you.
Let me do it.
Is there to be no singing for
my daughter's wedding, Dai Bando?
Now then. The bathtub holds 100 gallons.
"A" fills it at the rate of 20 gallons a minute,
and "B" at the rate of ten gallons a minute.
- Got that, Mr Morgan?
- Twenty and ten gallons. Yes, sir.
Now then. "C" is a hole that empties it
at the rate of five gallons a minute.
How long to fill the tub?
There is silly. Trying to fill
a bathtub full of holes, indeed.
A sum it is, girl. A sum.
A problem for the mind.
- For his examination into school.
- That old national school.
'Tis silly they are with their sums. Who
would pour water in a bathtub full of holes?
- Who would think of it? Only a madman.
- It is to see if the boy can calculate.
Figures, nothing else.
How many gallons, and how long.
In a bathtub full of holes.
Now I know why I have such a tribe of sons.
It is you, Beth Morgan, is the cause.
Look you, Mr Gruffydd.
Have you something else?
The decimal point.
The decimal...
The decimal point, then,
and peace to my house.
- Go and scratch.
- Well, it's getting late.
I've got to get along. We'll follow
the decimal point tomorrow night.
- Good night.
- Good night, Mrs Morgan.
Who is there that cannot look back
and remember his first day at a new school?
To go alone the long walk
over the hills to the next valley,
the first of my family to have
the privilege of attending a national school.
So you're the new boy?
- Yes, sir.
- You're late.
Yes, sir.
What a dirty little sweep it is.
Who are your people?
- Where are you from?
- Cwm Rhondda.
Cwm Rhondda?
A little genius from the coal pits.
And they expect me to make
a scholar of it. All right, come in.
Were you brought up in stables?
Well, shut the door.
Your boots are muddy.
They were clean when I left home.
You will address me as "sir",
or I'll put a stick about your back.
- Now sit down here.
- Yes, sir.
Come here, you dirty little sweep.
What have we here?
A pencil box.
Pretty, too.
You broke my pencil box.
Mervyn, stop it. You'll hurt him.
I fell on the mountain.
Did you win, Huw?
No.
Lanto.
- Fetch Dai Bando.
- Dai Bando, is it?
- Are you willing to go to school tomorrow?
- Yes, sir.
Good. You shall get a penny for every mark
on your face, sixpence for a bloody nose,
a shilling for a black eye,
two shillings for a broken nose.
Gwilym. Stop it. Fight again,
and when you come home, not a look
will you get from me, not a word.
Break your own nose, then. Break my heart
every time you go out of the house.
- A boy must fight, Beth.
- Fight?
Fight? Another beating like that,
he will walk home dead.
Beating? He's had no beating.
A hiding, yes, but no beating.
Give the boy time, it will be he
that's giving the beating, is it?
Dai Bando. Come into the house.
- Good evening, Mrs Morgan.
- Leave off your hat.
Dai Bando is going to teach you to box, Huw.
To fight first. Too many call themselves
boxers who are not even fighters.
- Boxing is an art, is it?
- It is, it is.
Go along with you, girl.
A cup of tea for the men.
- Tea?
- Tea?
No tea, Mrs Morgan.
In training, he is.
A glass of beer, if you please.
Baths full of holes.
And now prizefighters.
So our little coal miner has been
indulging in his favourite sport again?
- Mr Phillips, make a back. Make a back.
- I