"Oh, I don't forget that," said the old man; "and when he comes home in
the same temper as the son we read of, then we'll kill for him the
fatted calf."

"Well, I'd like to know what did he do whatever?" said a girlish voice
from behind the settle, where Morva Lloyd (who was shepherdess,
cowherd, milkmaid, all in one), was drying her hands on a jack-towel;
"what did Gethin do so very bad?"

"Look in his mother's Bible," said the old man, "and you'll see his
last sin."

"I've put it away," said Ann. "Twas too wicked to leave about; but he
was very young, father, and Gwilym says--"

"Oh! Gwilym," said her father, "has an excuse for everyone's faults
except his own; for thine especially."

There was a general laugh, during which Morva made up her mind to hunt
up the old Bible.

"I hope," said Ann, addressing Will, when he had come to an end of his
tea, "you told Price the vicar that Gwilym did not spend evening after
evening here helping you on with your studies, _knowing_ that you were
going to be a clergyman?"

"No, I didn't tell him that, but I can tell him some other time,"
answered Will, who would have promised anything in his desire to
propitiate Ann and his father, and to gain their consent to his