Morva laughed merrily.
"I had some milk to bring home, and Ann sent me early to help mother a bit. I was going now to gather dry furze and bracken to boil the porridge. Will you come and have supper with us, Will?"
"I have just had my tea," he said, "and a supper of bitter herbs into the bargain, for my father angered me by something he said. He is changeable as the wind, and I was roaming over here to seek for calmness from the sea wind, and perhaps a talk with Sara."
"Yes, come! She is in the herb garden gathering her bear's claws and rue; 'tis the proper time for them. But first we must cut the bracken."
Will took her sickle and soon cut a pile of the dry brittle fuel, binding it with a rope which she carried; and turning towards the cottage, they dragged it behind them.
"You go and seek mother," said Morva, "while I go and boil the porridge."
And in the garden Will found Sara stooping over her herb bed, and deeply intent upon her task.
The sun was setting now, and threw its ruddy beams upon the sunny corner, and upon the aged face and figure of the old woman.
"Well, 'machgen i," she said, straightening herself. "What is it?"
"Oh, nothing," said Will; "only, roaming about the moor, I came in to see you, and Morva has asked me to have supper with you—you are gathering your herbs?"