"Just as kindly, grandfather," said Janet, well pleased to see him in a mood so cheery; "and if my old cunning serves me, I’ll bring you home a well-filled basket." "I’ll warrant thou wilt, though it takes a nimble wit to match the tricksy mother-birds.—By the Heart, this springtime gets even into old blood, methinks; let’s be off, lads, for we’ve wasted enough of a grand morning, and there’s a deal to be got through before nightfall." "Both here and on Wayne’s farm. Ay, ’tis a busy time for the moorside," said Red Ratcliffe, glancing at Nicholas as they rose from table. The Lean Man frowned him down, but Janet had caught the glance, and she misliked her cousin’s tone. She welcomed Red Ratcliffe, accordingly, with less than her wonted coldness when he followed her into the courtyard a short while afterward, for she was bent on learning what lay behind his talk of Wayne’s farm. "Thou’rt quick to set off, cousin," he said. "Tell me, do the plovers nest at Marsh House, that thou showest so eager to seek their eggs?" "I know little of Marsh House, sir, and my way lies contrary across the moor." "Why, then, thou wilt be glad of a companion. Say, shall I come with thee, pretty Janet?" "If it pleases thee," she answered. He sought for mockery in her face, but, finding a half encouragement there, he fell into step beside her. Then, not understanding the slant ways of women, he must needs think that all was his for the asking, if only he put a bold front on it. "Janet," he said, "I knew thou’d’st weary of this feather-headed rogue from Marsh. Put thy hand in mine and say ’yea’ to a plain question, and I’ll think no more of jealousy." "Many thanks, cousin. Thou wooest, methinks, as a ploughboy would. _Whoa_, he cries to his team, or _gee-up_, and being used to have his horses obey him, he thinks women have as little wit." "He holds the whip, girl, as I do, and so is sure of them. Hark ye, I’m tired of this, and I will have thy answer. Flout me again, and I tell the Lean Man what I know." Her anger, never quiet when Red Ratcliffe was at her elbow, broke into sudden flame. "Tell him, and have done with it. I care not," she cried, forgetting that she had meant to wheedle him into telling her what she wished to know. "Hast never seen the Lean Man’s anger, that thou talk’st so glibly of it? Pish! Thou’rt a child. If I were so much as to hint that Shameless Wayne met thee by stealth, grandfather would—kill thee, I think." "That is true, cousin, he would go near to kill me," she said, standing straight and proud with her eyes on his. "And why should I fear that at his hands which I would compass myself rather than be wife to such as thou?" "Who fathered thee, I wonder?" he sneered. "No Ratcliffe, I’ll wager, or thou would’st have died of shame long since to let one of the Wayne hounds foul thee with his touch."