"Ye’ll borrow a horse off Jonas Feather; he bought a fresh one nobbut last week end, I called to mind," said Witherlee. "Lord save us," he added to himself, "to hear him talk so of a corpse that’s kin to him! To laugh because his own brother weighs heavier for being dead—nay, they’re a mucky breed, these Ratcliffes, an’ that’s as plain as the kirk-steeply." The Sexton followed Red Ratcliffe with his eyes as he went down the pathway leading to the tavern; and then he glanced again at the coin in his palm. "I dursn’t say him noy, for fear he’d know how sour he turns me wi’ yond weasel-face o’ hisn," he went on; "but I don’t like th’ colour of his brass, for all that, and I’d liefer be without it. What mun I do wi’ ’t, for it’ll fair burn a hole i’ my pocket?" His face brightened, and he crossed the graveyard briskly. "I’ll tak it to th’ wife, that I will," he said; "mebbe she’ll tell me what’s best to do wi’ it." "Well, did Red Ratcliffe find thee?" asked Nanny, soon as the Sexton showed his face indoors. "So he’s been here, and all, has he?" "Ay, he came seeking thee—and he threatened what he’d do if he catched me meddling wi’ what no way concerned me. Well, happen there’s more concerns me nor Red Ratcliffe has any notion of. Was it just about th’ grave he wanted thee, or was there more behind it?" "There war," said Witherlee, rubbing his hands together. "He came to see about th’ grave right enough—but he came most of all to axe me when Wayne o’ Marsh war to be buried. He puts his question careless-like, as if he didn’t fash hisseln to know one way or t’ other; so _I_ put a question to him i’ my turn—daft-like, so he shouldn’t guess th’ why of—and I could tell by his way o’ answering that they mean to swoop down on th’ Waynes to-morn while they’re agate wi’ th’ burying." "That’s so, is’t?" said Nanny, with a quick glance at her husband. "I war minded to slip down to Marsh before, but now I shall let nowt stand i’ th’ gate. They’re ower gentle, i’ a proud way o’ their own, is th’ Waynes, and they’ll niver think sich a thing could be as blows at burying-time." "Ay," assented Witherlee, "these well-bred folk is like childer when they’ve getten foul tricks to deal wi’, and they need one o’ th’ commoner sort to look after ’em." "I should think they do!—Well, sit thee dahn, Witherlee, or tha’ll get no dinner to-day, that tha willun’t. Sakes! But I’m bothered still about yond little Mistress Wayne; hast heard owt of her?" "Nowt. I talked to Hiram Hey as he went up to th’ land this morn, but they’d seen nowt of her at Marsh. Porr bairn! I doubt she’s come to harm." He wandered restlessly about the kitchen awhile; then, remembering the coin in his palm, he put it down on the extreme edge of the dresser. "I’ve getten a crown-piece, lass. What mun I do wi’ ’t?" he said. "Do? Gi’e it to me, for sure, if tha’s no use for’t. Sakes, he talks as if a crown-piece was addled ivery day o’ th’ week."