and
Sara employed their leisure hours in tying on to them the bunches of
purple heather, binding them firmly with the young withies of the
willows growing here and there on the boggy moor.

There was always quite a little knot of women round her stall of brooms
and wings, for she collected also from the farmhouses the wings of the
geese and ducks which had been killed for the market, and after drying
them carefully in the big chimney, sold them as brushes for hearth and
stairs. Sometimes, too, her stock-in-trade was increased by a
collection of wooden bowls, spoons, scales, and trenchers, which Stiven
"Storrom," living on the shore below, turned off his lathe, and sold
through Morva's agency. At such times she borrowed Stiven's
donkey-cart, and stood by it in the market until her wares were sold.
But to-day she had only her brooms, and tying them on her shoulders,
she held the cords crossed over her bosom, stooping a little under
their weight. Her head was buried in the purple blossoms, so that she
did not hear the tramp of footsteps following close behind her.

Gethin and Will were going to the market together, and the latter had
recognised the girl at some distance off, but had kept silence and
lessened his speed a little until his brother had asked:

"Who is this lass walking before us? Let's catch her up and carry her
brooms for her."

"Nonsense," said Will. "A Garthowen man may drive his sheep, his oxen,
and his horses to market, but to carry a bundle of brooms would not
look well. Leave them and the fowls to the women, and the pigs to the
men-servants--that's my fancy."

"Well, my fancy is to help this lassie," said Gethin. "She's got a
tidy pair of ankles, whatever; let's see what her face is like."

"'Tis Morva," said Will, rather sulkily.

"Then we know what her face is like. Come on, man. Who will be the
first to catch her?" and Gethin hurried his steps, while Will held back
a little. "Why, what's the matter? Surely thou art not ashamed to be
seen with Morva?"

"Of course not," said Will irritably; "but--er--er--a broom girl!"

"Oh, jawks!" said Gethin. "Brooms or no brooms, I am going to catch
her up," and coming abreast other, he laid his hand on the bunches of
blooming heather.

"Morva," he said, bending round her purple burden, "where art here,
lassie? Thee art buried in flowers! Come, loosen thy cords, and hoist
them upon my shoulder."

And as the girl looked at him from under