"Ye’ll need more fighting men at Marsh," said Rolf, gravely, and would have said more, but checked himself. "Likely," said Shameless Wayne, glancing at his brothers. "How fares it with the wounded up at Cranshaw?" "As well as might be. We took some deepish cuts a fortnight since, and they’ll take time to heal." Mistress Wayne ceased playing with her food, and looked steadfastly at Rolf. "Ratcliffe of Wildwater said ’twould never heal, when he met me on the road; he saw me looking at his ear, I fancy, for he said ’twould never heal till Ned yonder had paid his price for the blow. Ay, but he’s hard, hard! I shall hide Ned among the flowers lest they trap him some day on the moors." Nell, seated next to her, whispered some soothing speech; scorn was in the girl’s face yet, but it was plain that compassion was ousting her fierce hatred of her step-mother. Wayne of Cranshaw glanced across at Ned with gloomy wonder. The boys nudged one another, and laughed a little. But Mistress Wayne was already following a fresh fancy, and she paid no heed to the deep pause that followed her speech. "See the moon peeping through the lattice!" she cried, moving to the door. "It shames the candle-light in here; thou’lt not be angered, Ned, if I slip away to the garden? The fairy-folk come out of the daffy-bells, and they’ll miss me sadly if I do not go." "But, bairn, you’ve eaten naught." "Why, how fond thou art! The fairies will not talk to me unless I seek them fasting." She waved a light hand to him at the door and was gone. Griff, the eldest of the lads, looked after her and then at Shameless Wayne. "There’ll be more than fairies sporting in the moonlight—something plump-bodied and more toothsome," he cried. "The low pasture will be thick with hares; can we go down, Ned, and take the dogs with us?" Shameless Wayne did not answer just at once; then, "Ay, ye can go," he said, "if ye’ll keep to the low lands. The Wildwater hares are friskier, but ye must be content with worse sport. Dost promise, Griff?" "’Twould be the best sport of all to catch the Lean Man out of doors and set the dogs at him," said Griff, with a laugh. "Doubtless—but if Wildwater is in your minds, I shall keep you safe at home." "Well, then, we promise, Ned. Wilt let me have thy dog Rover? There’s none at Marsh as quick on a hare’s track as he." "Ned, ought they to go," put in his sister. "’Tis late, and you never know what cover hides a Ratcliffe." "Pish! We must not coddle growing lads.—Off with you, and if ye take Rover, see that ye bring him back again; I doubt he will not answer to your whistle as he does to mine." "They’re likely lads, and stiff-set-up," said Wayne of Cranshaw, as the four of them raced pell-mell out of the hall. "But thou need’st more than these about thee, Ned."