When Elias Constantine came up the slope from the beck, he was ahead of the sledge. His rake was over his shoulder and he leant on a holly stick. He did not wait for the pony, straining every muscle to land its load, but casually remarking, 'Hi, come up, Jane my bonny one!' made for the lap-cocks. He looked up to the business, and winked at Anna as much as to say so. He lumbered round, prodding one after the other and contriving to gather some hint for his guesses. He was never random and hated to be wrong. His keen old eyes did not deceive him now. When Jane reached them they were all ready to go up the field together, the girls shaking hay-seeds out of their hair, Jack pushing fodder under Jane's nose each time Elias 'breathed' her. 'I'm so sorry all our hay's in,' said Antoinette, looking across the beck to fields still in swathe and pike. 'You wouldn't be if you'd the getting of it,' said Elias. 'It's a rarely exercising time for watching the weather and the wankly ways o' Providence wi' shower and shine.' 'Lias, why won't Jane eat this hay?' asked Jack, whose wisps were snuffed at and disdained. 'Because she's full.' 'Oh! you ought to say she's had plenty; Anna says so,' said Joan. 'Danged if I ought to say otherwise than I do, missie.' 'Oh! what a jolly word, banged!' said Jack. 'I reckon I was wrong there,' said Elias sheepishly. 'It wasn't banged, there's nothing to bang,' said Antoinette. 'I know there are no doors out here, Netta----' 'Now you mean Dinah when she's cross. For shame, Jack.' 'I lay that's when some one's crossed her,' said Elias, who as Dinah's husband not only knew how doors could bang but was loyal in his excuses.