chimney.

"Morva!" he said, "is this little Morva, who cried so bad after me when
I went away, and whom I have longed to see so often? Come, shake
hands, lass; dost remember thy old playmate?" and he advanced towards
her with both hands outstretched.

Morva placed her own in his.

"Yes, indeed," she answered, "now in the light I can see 'tis thee,
Gethin--just the same and unaltered only--only--"

"Only grown bigger and rougher and uglier, but never mind; 'tis the
same old Gethin who carried thee about the slopes on his shoulders,
but, dei anwl! I didn't expect to see thee so altered and so--so
pretty."

Morva blushed but ignored the compliment.

"Well, indeed, there's glad they'll be to see thee at Garthowen."

"Dost think?"

"Yes, indeed; but won't I put him some supper, mother?"

"Yes, 'merch i, put on the milk porridge."

And Morva, glad to hide her embarrassment, set about preparing the
evening meal, for Gethin's eyes told the admiration which he dared not
speak. His gaze followed her about as she mixed the milk and the
oatmeal in the quaint old iron crochon.

"'Twill soon be ready; thee must be hungry, lad," said Sara, laying the
bowls and spoons in readiness on the table.

"Yes, I am hungry, indeed, for I have walked all the way from
Caer-Madoc. 'Tis Sunday, thee seest, so there were no carts coming
along the road. Halt, halt, lass!" he said, "let me lift that heavy
crochon for thee."

"Canst sleep on the settle, Gethin?" asked the old woman, "for I have
no bed for thee. I will spread quilts and pillows on it."

Gethen laughed boisterously.

"Quilts and pillows, indeed, for a man who has slept on the hard deck,
on the bare ground, on a coil of ropes; and once on a floating spar,
when I thought sleep was death, and welcomed it too."

"Hast seen many hardships then, dear lad?" said Sara. "Perhaps when we
were sleeping sound in out beds, thou hast oftentimes been battling
with death and shipwreck."

"Not often, but more than once, indeed," said Gethin.

"Thou must tell us after supper some of thy wonderful escapes."

"Yes, I'll tell you plenty of yarns," said Gethin, his eyes still
following Morva's movements.

A curious silence had fallen upon the girl, generally so ready to talk
in utter absence of self-consciousness. She served the porridge into
the black bowls, and shyly pushed Gethin's towards him, cutting him a
slice of the barley bread and butter.

"I have left my canvas ba