"Pest!" he broke in impatiently. "’Tis fitting a maid should let her fancies stray. But a grown man, Janet? There! The pool breeds more than the one sort of vapour, and we’ll stay no longer by it.—Think well, lass, on what I said of wedlock, for thou’lt have to make early choice." Hiram Hey, meanwhile was sitting beside the kitchen hearth at Marsh, watching Martha clear the board after dinner; for he always dined at the house, thought he slept and took his other meals at the Low Farm. The rest of the serving-folk had gone to this or that occupation, and Hiram was minded to take up his wooing again at the exact spot where he had left it an hour or two earlier. "I’ve been thinking o’ things, Martha, sin’ I saw thee looking so bonnie-like this morn," he said. "What sort o’ things?" she asked, demurely sweeping the table free of crumbs. Hiram ruffled the frill of hair under his chin, and smiled with wintry foolishness. "Well, what’s wrang for a young un like th’ Maister is right enough for a seasoned chap like me. I’m rather backard i’ coming forrard, tha sees, but it cam ower me t’ other day that I mud varry weel look round an’ about me; an’ if I could find a wench ’at war all I looked for i’ a wench——" "Ay, what then, Hiram?" He paused, and shuffled his feet among the heap of farmyard mud which had already fallen from his boots. "Why, there’s niver no telling—niver no telling at all," he said, with an air of deep wisdom. "Sakes, he’s a slow un to move, is Hiram," muttered the girl, losing patience at last. "Well, I mun be seeing after things, I reckon, or there’ll be summat getting out o’ gear," said Hiram, rising and stretching himself in very leisurely fashion. "Ay, tha’rt famous thrang," flashed Martha. "Comes moaning an’ groaning, does Hiram, at after he’d done his day, an’ swears th’ wark goes nigh to kill him. An’ this is what it comes to most days, I reckon—loitering by stiles, an’ talking foolishness to wenches ’at are ower busy to hearken——" "Nay, lass, nay! I wod liefer we didn’t part fratching." "Well, hast getten owt to say?" she asked, facing him abruptly. "Say? Well, now, I’m backard i’ coming forrard, as I telled thee—but tha’rt as snod-set-up a wench as iver——" "Thanks for nowt. Good-day, Hiram. Tha’rt backard i’ most things, I’m thinking," said Martha, flouncing out into the yard. Hiram looked after her awhile, then shook his head. "I war right to go slow," he murmured. "Women’s allus so hasty, as if they war bahn to dee to-morn, an’ all to get done afore their burial.—Well, I mun see to yond tummit seeds, I reckon; but I wod like to know what Red Ratcliffe war up to; summat he’d getten at th’ back on his mind, but what it war beats me." And something Red Ratcliffe had in mind; but what it was, and how nearly it touched those at Marsh, Hiram was not to learn this side the dawn. *CHAPTER X* *WHAT CROSSED THE GARDEN-PATH*