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.