Yes, the farmer Gibberty had once been a real living man, like himself. And so had millions of others, whose names he had never heard. And one day he himself would be a prisoner, confined between the walls of other people's memory. And then he would cease even to be that, and become nothing but a few words cut in stone. What would these words be, he wondered. A sudden longing seized him to hold Ranulph again in his arms. How pleasant would have been the thought that he was waiting to receive him at the farm! But he must be nearing his journey's end, for in the distance he could discern the figure of a woman, leisurely scrubbing her washing on one of the sides of a stone trough. "I wonder if that's the widow," thought Master Nathaniel. And a slight shiver went down his spine. But as he came nearer the washerwoman proved to be quite a young girl. He decided she must be the granddaughter, Hazel; and so she was. He drew up his horse beside her and asked if this were the widow Gibberty's farm. "Yes, sir," she answered shortly, with that half-frightened, half-defiant look that was so characteristic of her. "Why, then, I've not been misdirected. But though they told me I'd find a thriving farm and a fine herd of cows, the fools forgot to mention that the farmer was a rose in petticoats," and he winked jovially. Now this was not Master Nathaniel's ordinary manner with young ladies, which, as a matter of fact, was remarkably free from flirtatious facetiousness. But he had invented a role to play at the farm, and was already beginning to identify himself with it. As it turned out, this opening compliment was a stroke of luck. For Hazel bitterly resented that she was not recognized as the lawful owner of the farm, and Master Nathaniel's greeting of her as the farmer thawed her coldness into dimples. "If you've come to see over the farm, I'm sure we'll be very pleased to show you everything," she said graciously. "Thank'ee, thank'ee kindly. I'm a cheesemonger from Lud-in-the-Mist. And there's no going to sleep quietly behind one's counter these days in trade, if one's to keep one's head above the water. It's competition, missy, competition that keeps old fellows like me awake. Why, I can remember when there weren't more than six cheesemongers in the whole of Lud; and now there are as many in my street alone. So I thought I'd come myself and have a look round and see where I could get the best dairy produce. There's nothing like seeing for oneself." And here he launched into an elaborate and gratuitous account of all the other farms he had visited on his tour of inspection. But the one that had pleased him best, he said, had been that of a very old friend of his--and he named the farmer near Moongrass with whom, presumably, Ranulph and Luke were now staying. Here Hazel looked up eagerly, and, in rather an unsteady voice, asked if he'd seen two lads there--a big one, and a little one who was the son of the Seneschal.