ernoon Gethin insisted upon taking his sickle to the
cornfield, and although the work was new to him his brawny arm soon
made an impression on the standing corn. The field was full of
laughter and talk, the sweet autumn air was laden with the scent of the
blackberries and honeysuckle in the hedges, and the work went on with a
will until, at four o'clock, the reapers took a rest, sitting on the
sunny hedge sides.

Through the gap Ann and Morva appeared, bringing the welcome basket of
tea. Gethin hurried towards them, relieving them of the heavy basket
which they were carrying between them.

"Thee'll have enough to do if thee'st going to help the women folk
here," said Will.

"He's been in foreign parts," said a reaper, "and learnt manners, ye
see."

"Yes," said another, "that polish will soon wear off."

"Well, caton pawb!" said Gethin, "manners or no manners, man, I never
could sit still and see a woman, foreign or Welsh, carry a heavy load
without helping her."

The two girls spread the refreshing viands on the grass, and with merry
repartee answered the jokes of the hungry reapers.

"'Twill be a jolly supper to-night, Miss Ann; we'll expect the 'fatted
calf,'" said one.

"Well, you'll get it," replied Ann; "'tis veal in the cawl, whatever."

"Hast seen Gethin before?" said Will to Morva, observing there was no
greeting between them.

"Well, yes," answered the girl, blushing a rosy red under her
sunbonnet; "wasn't it at our cottage he slept last night? and indeed
there's glad mother was to see him."

"And thee ought to be too," said one of the reapers, "for I'll never
forget how thee cried the day he ran away."

"Well, I'll never make her cry again," said Gethin. "Art going at
once, lass? Wilt not sit here and have tea with us?" and he drew his
coat, which he had taken off for his work, toward her, and spread it on
the hedge side.

Morva laughed shyly; she was not used to such attentions.

"No, indeed, I must go," she answered; "we are preparing supper."

As she followed Ann through the gap Gethin looked after her with a
smile in his eyes.

"There's bonnie flowers growing on the slopes of Garthowen, and no
mistake," he said.

Will examined the edge of his sickle and did not answer.

Later on, when the harvest supper was over, and the last brawny reaper
had filed out of the farmyard in the soft evening twilight, the
Garthowen household dropped in one by one to the best kitchen, where
their o