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He did not ask her to meet him again behind the broom bushes, and only one night in the old beudy, where she had carried a pail of grain to a sick cow, had he tried to speak to her alone. Gethin, who watched his brother with eager interest, was astonished at the indifference he showed towards her. Surely they must meet somewhere secretly! Well, what was it to him? What was anything to him?
Ann and Morva had cut the generous hunches of barley bread and cheese overnight, and well it was that they were thus prepared, for before the hens and turkeys had flown down from their roosting-place, and before the cows had risen from their warm beds of straw in the beudy, or the sheep had begun to shake off the snow which had fallen on their fleeces in the night, fresh young voices were heard in the farmyard singing the old refrain familiar to generations of Welsh children: "Calenig i fi, calenig i'r ffon, Calenig i fytta ar hyd y ffordd.
"Good-night," echoed the girl, and, taking up her pail, she closed the beudy door, and as she crossed the yard under the bright starlight she recalled Gethin's parting words, "Be easy, Morva," and repeated them to herself with a sorrowful smile. "'Tis Martinmas Fair to-morrow," said Ann, as Morva entered the best kitchen. "Are you going, father?" "Yes," he said. "I have those yearlings to sell."
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