she, and up on my shoulder I would hoist her, as happy as a king, with
her two little feet in my hands, and her little fat hands ketching
tight in my hair, and there's galloping over the slopes we were, me
snorting and prancing, and she laughing all the time like the swallows
when they are flying."

They were interrupted by a clatter of heavy shoes and a chorus of
boisterous voices, as three sailors came in loudly calling for their
tea.

"Hello, Gethin! not gone? Hast changed thy mind?"

"Not a bit of it," said Gethin, pointing to his bag of clothes. "I
have been a long time making up my mind, but it's Garthowen and the
cows and the cawl for me this time and no mistake."

"And Morva," said Jim Bowen, with a smile, in which lurked a suspicion
of a sneer. "Thee may say what thee likes about the old man, and the
cows, and the cawl, but I know thee, Gethin Owens! Ever since I told
thee what a fine lass Morva Lloyd has grown thee'st been hankering
after Garthowen slopes."

There was a general laugh, in which Gethin joined good-humouredly,
standing and stretching himself with a yawn. The evening sun fell full
upon him, showing a form of sinewy strength, and a handsome manly face.
His dark skin and the small gold rings in his ears, so much affected by
Welsh sailors, gave him a foreign look, which rather added to the
attractiveness of his personal appearance.

When the tea had been partaken of, with a running accompaniment of