"Down, Tudor!" said the girl, and he sprang on a sack of peas beside
her.

The mountain wind blowing in through the open doorway touzled the
little curls that were so unruly in Morva's hair; it was neither gold
nor ebony, but, looking at its rich tints, one was irresistibly
reminded of the ripe corn in harvest fields, while the blue eyes were
like the corn flowers in their vivid colouring.

"How are they at Garthowen?" asked Fani "bakkare."

"Oh! they are all well there," answered the girl, panting and fanning
herself with her sun-bonnet, "except the white calf, and he is better."

"There's hot it is!" said Fani, taking up her basket of groceries.

"Oh! 'tis hot!" said the girl, "but there's a lovely wind from the sea."

"What are you wanting to-day, Morva?" said Jos.

"A ball of red worsted for Ann, and an ounce of 'bacco for 'n'wncwl
Ebben, and oh! a ha'porth of sweets for Tudor."

The dog wagged his tail approvingly as Jos reached down from the shelf
a bottle of pink lollipops, for, though a wild country dog, he had
depraved tastes in the matter of sweets.

"There's serious you all look! what's the matter with you?" said the
girl, looking smilingly round.