“Since there is so much,” answered she, “I wot that I am.”
“And dost thou not feel hunger save when there is plenty?” laughed Ethelfleda. “Strange, Egwina! Would that my appetite would accommodate itself to the supply. But marry! the less there is, the more do I wish.”
“’Tis the heart of Egwina that molds her appetite,” commented Edward. “At the morning meal I could but notice how she broke off the larger part of her bread, and gave it to Ethelwerd and Elswitha. The meat did go in the same manner.”
“Didst thou?” Ethelfleda looked up from the fish she was preparing in amaze. “Thou shouldst have eaten thy portion. Each had the same.”
“True; but the little ones wished for more,” said the girl simply. “And I need not much. Then, too, Edward gave me part of his.”
“’Twas naught,” said the youth hastily. “Thou wouldst retain nothing for thyself if thou were not watched. Besides, I am a man, and stronger than thou.”
“A man?” teased his sister. “A man, yet thou hast not yet naught but down upon thy chin; nor art thou of age to wear buckler.”
“Yet in truth a man,” said Alfred, laying his hand kindly upon his son’s head. “A man such as I wish to see, my son. Tender to the weak, and gentle to the helpless.”
Edward’s face flushed at the praise.
“Come, Ethelred,” he called, to hide his confusion, to the young man who stood by the fire. “Come help us to prepare the fish.”