His only answer was to shift his shoulder to a more easiful position against the doorway, and Nanny left him to it. At another time she would have had a sharper tongue for Hiram Hey, nor would his own responses have lacked their sting; but the old Master’s influence had never been so strong as it was now, and a sense of seemliness—a fear, perhaps, of waking the last sleep of him who lay so near to them—held even the rough tongues of these upland folk in check. Hiram glanced at Martha, soon as the little old woman had hobbled out to lay fresh dishes in the hall; and Martha answered his glance in a way that showed there was an understanding between them—as indeed there was like to be, seeing that Hiram Hey had been wooing her off and on these two years past. "Hast been to th’ fields this morn?" asked Martha. "Ay, iver sin’ th’ sun war up, lass." "Tha’ll be dry, then, Hiram, at after thy morning’s work." "Dry, now? Well, I wodn’t say just dry—but that way on a bit. I niver war a drinker myseln, as I telled shepherd Jose nobbut yesterday; but there’s a time for iverything, an’ if I war to see a quart, say, of October frothing ower th’ lip o’ th’ mug——" "Tha’d find a mouth to fit it? Well, an’ shall, says I," cried Martha. Hiram stretched his limbs more lengthily before the peats, as a soothing gurgle from the pantry told him that Martha was already filling him a measure. She was back again by and by, with a brim-full pewter in her hands. "Drink, lad Hiram; what wi’ work an’ sadness, there’s need for strong liquor here at Marsh," she said. The firelight struck with a ruddy, softened sheen on the pewter as Hiram lifted it. He drank slowly, and his face was full of unwonted cheerfulness until he had set down the empty mug beside him. "Theer! It war gooid, Martha," he murmured sorrowfully, "but I doubt there’s nowt mich in it when all’s said. Drink is all varry weel, but there’s one ower i’ th’ hall yonder who’ll niver warm to liquor again this side o’ Judgment. Nay, I’m fair shamed o’ myseln to be supping ale while th’ owd Maister ligs so cold." He stopped and eyed the empty pewter; and Martha, reaching across the settle-back, picked up the mug again. "Tha’s getten too soft a heart, Hiram," she said. "Sup while ye can, an’ mak th’ most on’t." "Nay, nay, I’m no drinker. Plain watter is nigh th’ same to me as ale, an’ there’s no call for thee to fill afresh—leastways, I wodn’t say a full quart, tha knows." But Martha was back again before he had well finished with his protests. "Get done wi’ ’t, Hiram, afore Nanny comes back," she whispered. "She carries an ill tongue, does Nanny, when she finds life going too easy wi’ a body." "There’s queer things bahn to happen," said Hiram presently. "By th’ Heart, I thowt there’d been queer happenings enough of late!"