"Well, Maister?" she said softly, as still he did not speak. "Well, nurse? Dost think I’m still unbreeked, and ready as of old to shiver at thy tales?" "Then there’s nowt wrang at Marsh?" "What should be wrong?" "If all goes weel, why do ye stand so quiet there, Maister? An’ why do ye hide your face when Nanny talks to ye?" Wayne forced a laugh as he moved down the passage. "Hunger puts strange fancies in a man," he said, "and ’tis long since I had bite or sup." Nanny did not follow him, but turned to Martha, who had listened with dismay to all that passed. "Proud—allus proud," she said. "He niver wod own to feeling flaired, wodn’t th’ Maister. But I tell thee, lass, there’s bahn to be sich happenings as nawther thee nor me hes seen th’ like on." "We’ve hed happenings enough, Nanny—Lord save us fro’ owt but peace, say I." "Lord save us, says th’ wench! As if there war Lord to hearken save th’ God that fills th’ storm’s belly wi’ thunder an’ wi’ leetning. Cannot tha hear, Martha, lass? ’Tis throb, throb—an’ ivery cranny o’ th’ owd walls hes getten a voice to-neet.—Hark ye! Th’ Maister hes gone out into th’ courtyard! An’ there’s Wayne o’ Cranshaw’s rough-edged voice. Th’ storm is gathering fast, I warrant." Shameless Wayne, meanwhile, wandering out of doors to see if there were any sign of Nell’s return, had found his cousin in the courtyard. Rolf had just ridden over from Cranshaw, and the four lads stood round his horse in an eager knot, telling him of the day’s exploits and making off-hand mention of their wounds. "Why, Ned, has the day borne hardly on thee? Thou look’st out of heart," cried Rolf, as Shameless Wayne came slowly across the courtyard. Wayne tried to shake off his forebodings. "Nay, ’tis not the day’s work troubles me," he said. "We trounced them bonnily, Rolf, and these four rascals would have chased them to the Pit had I not held them in. Griff yonder will be a better swordsman than his teacher before the year is out." "Thou’rt wounded deepish, by the look of thee. Ned, I’d give a twelvemonth of my life to have fought beside thee at the washing-pools." Shameless Wayne laughed soberly. "’Twas worth as much.—There, Rolf! Thou’lt have thy chance, I fancy, by and by." "Then there’s to be another battle?" cried Griff eagerly. "Likely, thou man of blood," said Shameless Wayne, with a would-be lightness that sounded strangely heavy to Rolf’s ears. "What troubles thee?" he asked. "’Tis naught to do with the Ratcliffes, thou say’st?" "With the Ratcliffes? I’m not so sure, lad. Nell has not come home since dinner, nor Mistress Wayne.—Ah, there’s the little bairn at last; haply she can tell us what mad scamper Nell is bent on."