"Why, Mistress Janet fro’ Wildwater. She’s a tidy seat i’ th’ saddle, hes th’ lass," said the shepherd, pressing his face closer to the glass to see the last of her. "A wench can hev a tidy seat i’ th’ saddle, an’ yet be leet as thistle-down." "Ay, but she hes a snod way wi’ her, an’ all. I’ve thowt, whiles, she hed more o’ th’ free, stand-up look o’ th’ Waynes about her nor her breed warrants." "Well, there’s some say that, if wishes war doings, she’d hev a Wayne name to her back," said Hiram, shifting to an easier posture. "Nowt o’ th’ sort!" put in the shepherd warmly. "Th’ young Maister may hev been a wild-rake, an’ he may be wilful i’ farming-matters an’ sich—but he’d niver foul th’ owd name by gi’eing it to a Ratcliffe." "That’s as may be. But young blood’s young blood, an’ she’s winsome to look at, as nawther thee nor me can deny." "There war summat betwixt ’em, now I call to mind, afore this last brew o’ trouble war malted. I’ve heard tell o’ their meeting i’ th’ owd days up by th’ kirk-stone when they thowt nobody war looking. But that’s owered wi’. Tha doesn’t fancy there could be owt o’ th’ sort now, Hiram?—Theer, get thy mug filled up, lad, for tha needs a sup o’ strong drink to brace thee for th’ long day’s sheep-weshing to-morn." "I’ll hev my mug filled, Jose, lad—though I’m no drinker—an’ I’ll keep my thowts about th’ Maister an’ th’ Wildwater lass to myseln. But I’ve seen what I’ve seen—ay, not a three week sin’—an’ if iver tha hears ’at two folk are courting on th’ sly, doan’t thee say I didn’t tell thee on ’t, that’s all." "What didst see, like, a three week sin’?" asked Jose the shepherd, his head tilted gossip-wise to one side. "Nay, I war niver one to spread tales abroad, not I. But it warn’t a mile fro’ where I’m sitting now, on th’ varry road ’at runs past th’ tavern here, that I happened on two folk standing fair i’ th’ middle o’ th’ highway. An’ one war fearful like the Maister, an’ t’ other warn’t so different fro’ Mistress Ratcliffe; an’ they war hugging one another summat fearful." "Now, come, Hiram! Gossip’s gossip, but I’ll noan believe that sort o’ talk about th’ Maister." "That’s as it pleases thee, lad. I nobbut said ’at th’ couple I saw war like as two peas to him an’ Mistress Janet. Ay, an’ they’d getten dahn fro’ their hosses, an’ she war crying like a gooid un i’ his arms. Well, ’tis as Nanny Witherlee is allus saying, I fear me—if a blackberry’s nobbut out o’ reach, ye’ll find all th’ lads i’ th’ parish itching for ’t." "Well, I mun tak thy word for owt to do wi’ courting," said the shepherd drily. "Tha’rt framing to learn nowadays thyseln, so they tell me." "An’ what about thee?" cried Hiram, roused from the tranquil gaiety which his bit of gossip afforded him. "I’d think shame, if my hair war as white as thine, Jose, to turn sheep’s eyes on a young wench like Martha."