"Didn’t I tell thee?" cried the shepherd, cackling softly and stroking his shaven upper lip. "Didn’t I tell thee, Hiram? Eh, lad, I haven’t lived to three-score an’ three without knowing a sour cherry fro’ a sweet." "Thou’rt ower fond o’ th’ young Maister; tha allus wert, Jose. What’s he getten to show for hisseln?" grumbled Hiram. "Measure him by his doings, an’ he’s nowt; but peep at th’ innards o’ th’ lad, an’ tha’ll find summat different-like. He war a wick un fro’ being a babby, war Shameless Wayne, an’ wick tha’ll find him, Hiram, if fancy leads him to meddle wi’ th’ farming." "Theer, I niver reckoned mich o’ thy head-piece, Jose; ’twar nobbut th’ suddenness of it that capped me so, an’ next time I warrant he’ll sing to a different tune. He war right, though, about this field, an’ ’tis owing to thee, Jose, ’at I’m late wi’ ’t, coming ivery half-hour as tha dost to break me off th’ wark. ’Tis weel to be a shepherd, I allus did say." "Well, then, I’ll swop jobs; I’ll tak thine, lad, if tha’ll tak mine. Begow, but to say ’at I’m idle i’ lambing-time— Theer I’ll be wending; ’twill noan do mich gooid to listen to such fly-by-sky talk of yond." Hiram let him move a little away; then, "Didst see Red Ratcliffe go riding by to Wildwater a while back?" he called. "Nay, I war off th’ road. Hes he passed, like, while th’ Maister war here?" said the shepherd, answering tamely to the lure and resuming his old easiful attitude against the fence. "I should think he did. An’ he stops, does Ratcliffe, an’ mocks th’ Maister; an’ he up an’ says, ’Come thee dahn and fight, lad,’ says he, meaning th’ Maister. But Ratcliffe war flayed—ay, he war flayed—I’m noan saying th’ lad didn’t show hisseln summat like a man." The shepherd was silent for awhile. "I tell thee what it is, Hiram," he said presently; "them Ratcliffes hes been thrang this mony a week wi’ their plots an’ their mucky plans. There’s niver a neet goes by now, when we meet at th’ tavern, Wildwater hands an’ Marsh, but they mak a joke o’ Shameless Wayne—an’ no rough honest jokes, mind ye, but sour uns——" "I should like to hear ’em!" snapped Hiram. "I’m noan gi’en to liquor, Jose, as tha knaws; but I’ve a mind to look in at th’ tavern this varry neet, th’ first I hear oppen his mouth agen th’ young Maister—" he stopped and looked once down the path that Shameless Wayne had taken. "We shall fratch, me an’ ye, lad," he said, as he settled to his work again. "Ay," chuckled Jose, turning away. "An’ he’ll best thee ivery time. So I’ll say good-afternoon, Hiram, an’ we’ll pray there’ll be no more lamb-storms this side o’ th’ summer." "We shall fratch," repeated Hiram Hey, and shouted a "gee-yup," to the chestnut. But the Master was thinking of weightier matters even than his fratching with Hiram Hey. Nell and he had stopped at the parting of the ways this side of Marsh House, and he had glanced queerly at her as he said farewell. "Where art going, Ned?" she asked.