ghty boys," said Mrs. Parry, "and that wasn't
enough reason for sending you from home, and shutting the door against
you."

"No," said Gethin, "but I did more than that; I could not do a worse
thing than I did to displease the old man. I was fond of scribbling my
name everywhere. 'Gethin Owens' was on all the gateposts, and on the
saddles and bridles, and once I painted 'G. O.' with green paint on the
white mare's haunch. There was a squall when that was found out, but
it was nothing to the storm that burst upon me when I wrote something
in my mother's big Bible. As true as I am here, I don't remember what
I wrote, but I know it was something about the devil, and I signed it
'Gethin Owens,' and a big 'Amen' after it. Poor old man, he was
shocking angry, and he wouldn't listen to no excuse; so after a good
thrashing I went away, Ann ran after me with my little bundle, and the
tears streaming down her face, but I didn't cry--only when I came upon
little Morva Lloyd sitting on the hillside. She put her arms round my
neck and tried to keep me back, but I dragged myself away, and my tears
were falling like rain then, and all the way down to Abersethin as long
as I could hear Morva crying and calling out 'Gethin! Gethin!'"

"There's glad she'll be to see you."

"Well, I dunno. She was used to be very fond of me; she couldn't bear
Will because he was teazing her, but I was like a slave to her. 'I
want some shells to play,' sez she sometimes, and there I was off to
the shore, hunting about for shells for her. 'Take me a ride,' sez
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
t