“What if bargest snaps at you, Polly?” he suggested. “There’s no moon, and he may be on the moor.” “How you talk!” she replied, but the voice was fainter, and Nancy knew they were walking away together; and she turned with a smile on her lips and began to undress. “All the better!” she muttered. “James Inman doesn’t come into the play.” When she got into bed she was quite composed, even though the painful throbbing of her head for some time drove sleep away. She was very much in love with herself and her scheme, and physical discomfort counted for little. When at length she lost consciousness, though the wind rose and blew through the open window with such force as to disorder the room, she slept soundly until morning. Meantime in the cottage by the stream, Maniwel and Jagger had also been busy with their plans. The father’s description of his encounter with Baldwin had roused the son’s wrath. “He’s a low lot,” he said savagely; “a dirty, under-handed cad ’at’s doing all he can to block t’ road for us. It takes me all my time to keep my fingers off him; and yon Inman’s just such another, if he isn’t t’ worst o’ t’ two.” “Let ’em be, lad,” said his father calmly, “Baldwin snarls and snaps; but his tantrums go over me same as a dull plane on a greasy board. But it’s different wi’ you and Nancy, and I’m afraid there’s a gap there that’ll bide a bit o’ bridging. By what Baldwin let slip she’s badly huffed wi’ you and me over our new shop; and a lass like Nancy’ll suck a humbug o’ that sort a long time before she swallows it.” “All t’ better for her,” said Hannah as her brother’s face became moody; “it’ll save it from sticking in her throat. You just sit tight, Jagger, and let her go on sucking. T’ longer she sucks t’ smaller it’ll get, and t’ more used she’ll get to t’ taste.” “You hold your noise, Hannah,” her father interposed good humouredly. “I’d as soon trust t’ ferret to settle what’s best for t’ rabbit as one lass for another. I’m thinking you were a bit too blunt wi’ Nancy, lad, when she came in that night.” “I told her straight, if that’s what you mean,” replied Jagger promptly. “I thought t’ straight road was what you favoured.” “So it is,” returned his father caustically, “but t’ straight road isn’t always t’ shortest, and when you’re dealing wi’ a lass like Nancy, ’at’s got a will of her own and is as bad to move as Balaam’s donkey when she sets herself, t’ longest way round might be t’ shortest way home. Eh, lad! I could like to do your courting for you for an odd hour or so.” Jagger smiled. “She’ll come round, you’ll see. I know what she has to stand from Baldwin,—aye, and Keturah, too. They’ll put kindling under her till she boils over, now ’at she scarcely puts her nose out o’ doors; mark my words, if they don’t.” “What about Christmas?” inquired Hannah. “If she misses coming to tea it’ll be t’ first time since her father died. It wants short o’ three weeks, so you’ve got to look handy if you bring her round.”