Gethen laughed boisterously.
"Quilts and pillows, indeed, for a man who has slept on the hard deck, on the bare ground, on a coil of ropes; and once on a floating spar, when I thought sleep was death, and welcomed it too."
"Hast seen many hardships then, dear lad?" said Sara. "Perhaps when we were sleeping sound in out beds, thou hast oftentimes been battling with death and shipwreck."
"Not often, but more than once, indeed," said Gethin.
"Thou must tell us after supper some of thy wonderful escapes."
"Yes, I'll tell you plenty of yarns," said Gethin, his eyes still following Morva's movements.
A curious silence had fallen upon the girl, generally so ready to talk in utter absence of self-consciousness. She served the porridge into the black bowls, and shyly pushed Gethin's towards him, cutting him a slice of the barley bread and butter.
"I have left my canvas bag at Caer-Madoc," said Gethin, when he had somewhat appeased his appetite. "'Twill come up to Garthowen to-morrow. I have a present in it for thee, Morva."
"For me?" said the girl, and a flood of crimson rushed into her face.
"I didn't think thee wouldst be remembering me."
"There thou wast wrong, then," said Gethin, cutting himself another slice.