"Had no breakfast?" she said, lifting up her hands in surprise. "I made sure you got something to eat before you went out."
"Well, then, you were wrong for once," he said, laughing. "Now, please put me out of my misery as quickly as possible."
"Ah, Ralph," she answered, with a sigh, "if we had no worse misery than hunger, how happy we should be!"
"That is so, mother," he said, with a laugh. "Hunger is not at all bad when you have plenty to eat."
She sighed again.
"It is well that you young people don't see far ahead of you," she said plaintively. "But come here and get your breakfast."
Two hours later, when in the home close hoeing turnips, he lifted his head and saw his father coming across the fields from the direction of St. Goram, he straightened his back at once and waited. He knew that he had been to see the parson to get the latest and fullest news. David came slowly on with his eyes upon the ground, as if buried in profound thought.
"Well, father, what news?" Ralph questioned, when his father came within speaking distance.
David started as though wakened out of a reverie, and came to a full stop. Then a pathetic smile stole over his gentle face, and he came forward with a quickened step.
"I waited for the parson to get a reply from the War Office, or I should have been home sooner," he said, bringing out the words slowly and painfully.