"Where is he? Where ony honest man is like to be—following his trade." Nanny misliked all Ratcliffes, and she never troubled to hide her feelings from gentle or simple. "By the Mass, thou’rt shorter of tongue than any woman I’ve set eyes on yet. Drop thy fooling, woman, for there has news come to Wildwater which sets a keen edge on my temper." "Ay, marry? Then try th’ edge on me—for I’m reckoned hard, and hev blunted more men’s tempers nor ye can count years. Witherlee’s i’ th’ kirkyard, if that’s what ye’re axing. Mebbe ye’ve met th’ Brown Dog on your way across th’ moor, an’ he’s warned ye to be beforehand, like, wi’ ordering your grave?" Ratcliffe scowled as he turned his horse’s head. "Recall now that the Sexton’s wife is friendly to the Waynes, and makes a boast of it," he said, glancing sharply at her. A quick retort came to Nanny’s tongue, and she hungered to out with it; but, being a prudent body even where the most unruly of her members was in case, answered quietly, "When gentlefolks come to blows," she said, "sich as me an’ Witherlee are quiet, an’ tak our pickings, an’ if we choose sides at all, we lean toward them as gi’es us th’ most butter to our bread." "Stick to that creed, Nanny," said the other, with a rough laugh over his shoulder. "For ’tis apt to go hard at times with friends of the Waynes, and if we caught thee crossing the scent after the hunt was well up—well, thou hast heard of our kind ways with enemies." Red Ratcliffe had no sooner disappeared among the graves that stood at the far side of the road, after hitching his horse’s bridle to the wicket, than Nanny’s neighbour ran in from next door—a big-faced, big-boned woman, who went through life with a keen regard for everybody’s business but her own. "Begow, there’s summat agate, an’ proper!" cried the big-faced woman, filling the doorway with her breadth. "He war that sharp wi’ thee, Nanny, I niver could hev believed. What ailed him to gi’e the yond bit o’ warning—an’ thee nobbut a bit o’ dirt under his feet at most times?" Nanny eyed her visitor askance, distrusting her for a slattern, yet not sorry for a chance of gossip. "He hes heard tell, I fancy, how mony an’ mony a year back I helped th’ Waynes o’ Marsh to slip fro’ th’ Ratcliffes’ sword-points. An’, an’ there’s more nor one of th’ better sort that hes learned to fear Nanny’s tongue, an’ th’ sharp een she has for seeing fox-tricks. Yond Ratcliffe is like as two peas to what th’ Lean Man used to be i’ his young days—red hair an’ all." "There’s red hair an’ there’s red hair," put in the other, weightily. "Same as there’s cheese an’ cheese; but there’s one sort o’ red thatch that niver yet spelt owt but foxiness an’ double-dealing." "That’s true, for I’ve noticed it myseln. Black hair for honest, says I, an’ red for a man that’ll do owt." "Leet hair, thin blood—that’s what I war telled. Ay, sure, ye can niver trust yond sort o’ thatch; an’ all th’ Ratcliffes hev it, saving Mistress Janet."