"Of course I am. Why shouldn't I be?" and Ranulph gave an impatient little plunge in his bed. "Well, I was just wondering, you know." Luke paused; and then said imploringly, "Please, Master Ranulph, be a good chap and tell me what took you at supper time when that doitered old weaver came in. You gave me quite a turn, screaming like that." "Ah, Luke! Wouldn't you like to know!" teased Ranulph. Finally he admitted that when he had been a small child he had frequently seen Portunus in his dreams, "And that's rather frightening, you know, Luke." Luke, much relieved, admitted that he supposed it was. He himself was not given to dreaming; nor did he take seriously the dreams of others. Ranulph noticed his relief; and rather an impish expression stole into his eyes. "But there's something else, Luke," he said. "Old Portunus, you know, is a dead man." This time Luke was really alarmed. Was his charge going off his head? "Get along with you, Master Ranulph!" he cried, in a voice that he tried to make jocose. "All right, Luke, you needn't believe it unless you like," said Ranulph. "Good night, I'm off to sleep." And he blew out his candle and turned his back on Luke, who, thus dismissed, must needs return to his own bed, where he soon fell fast asleep. CHAPTER VI THE WIND IN THE CRABAPPLE BLOSSOMS About a week later, Mistress Hempen received the following letter from Luke: Dear Auntie,-- I trust this finds you as well as it leaves me. I'm remembering what you said, and trying to look after the little master, but this is a queer place and no mistake, and I'd liefer we were both safe back in Lud. Not that I've any complaint to make as to victuals and lodging, and I'm sure they treat Master Ranulph as if he was a king--wax candles and linen sheets and everything that he gets at home. And I must say I've not seen him looking so well, nor so happy for many a long day. But the widow woman she's a rum customer and no mistake, and wonderful fond of fishing, for a female. She and the doctor are out all night sometimes together after trout, but never a trout do we see on the table. And sometimes she looks so queerly at Master Ranulph that it fairly makes my flesh creep. And there's no love lost between her and her granddaughter, her step-granddaughter I should say, her who's called Miss Hazel, and they say as what by the old farmer's will the farm belongs to her and not to the widow. And she's a stuck-up young miss, very high and keeping herself to herself. But I'm glad she's in the house all the same, for she's well liked by all the folk on the farm and I'd take my oath that though she's high she's straight. And there's a daft old man that they call Portunus and it's more like having a tame magpie in the house than a human man, for he can't talk a