"Ay, I guessed as mich," she said, looking once at the hand and thence to the young Master’s face. "Twenty year gone by it war th’ same, an’ I’ve heard tell that, long afore I war born or thowt on, th’ Lean Man’s grandfather rade down to Marsh one neet an’ fixed a Wayne’s hand to th’ door. Do ye mind th’ tale, Maister? I telled it when ye war no higher nor my knee." "I had forgotten it, nurse. Yond is the badge of feud, then? So be it. There’ll be sword-play, Nanny, soon as father is well laid to rest." "Afore, I warrant," said Nanny sharply. "Willun’t ye hearken to me, lad, when I tell ye that a devil sits snug behind ivery Ratcliffe muzzle?" "Save Mistress Janet’s," muttered the other, absently. "Oh, th’ wind blows that road, does it? I’ve thowt as mich, time an’ time. Maister, I war aye fond o’ ye, an’ that ye knaw—gi’e no heed to th’ lass, for all her bonnie ways. Ye cannot grow taties i’ mucky soil, anor father a right sort o’ love on a Ratcliffe." "Hold thy peace, Nanny! who said I cared for Mistress Ratcliffe?" "Your face, lad, said it. Theer! I’ve angered ye, an’ ye’ve enough as ’tis to put up wi’.—I war saying, Maister, that ye’ll niver bottom th’ meanness of a Ratcliffe, as I can do; an’ when ye think ’at they’ll respect a dead man ony more nor a wick un, ye’re sore mista’en." "Nay, they’re an ill lot—but even the Lean Man would scruple to set on mourners at a grave-side." "Trust an owd head, Maister. Witherlee put a plain question to Red Ratcliffe yestermorn; he axed him fair an’ square if they meant to let th’ burying go by i’ peace; an’ he telled by th’ look o’ th’ chap ’at they meant to do no sich thing.—Lad, I’ll not axe ye to believe, for ye’ve getten your father’s trick o’ thinking th’ best of ony mon save yourseln; but I will axe ye to humour an owd body’s fancy, and to send as quick as may be to your kin at Hillus, an’ Cranshaw to bid ’em buckle their sword on afore they come to Marsh." "When did Marshcotes ever see armed mourners at a graveside?" he said, eyeing her doubtfully. "’Twill wear a queer look, Nanny, if no attack is made." "It ’ull wear a queerer, my sakes, if they come an’ cut ye all i’ little pieces. For owd sake’s sake, Maister, promise me ye’ll do it. Yond’s Simeon stirring at th’ back o’ th’ house; I should know his step by now, for he walks as if one foot war flaired-like to follow t’ other. Bid Simeon get hisseln to horseback——" "I doubt it still, nurse. What if the Lean Man has nailed his token to the door? There’s time and to spare, by the Heart, for what will follow." "Fiddle o’ that tale!" cried the Sexton’s wife briskly. "If ye choose to lig cold i’stead o’ warm, I’ve ta’en trouble enough wi’ ye i’ times past, that I hev, to warrant my stepping betwixt ye an’ ony sich-like foolishness. An’ if ye doan’t send Simeon, I’ll walk myseln both to Hillus an’ to Cranshaw—ay, that I will—Maister, do ye knaw ’at th’ Lean Man crossed Barguest last neet as iver war?"