‘Malapert,’ repeated Anne, not able to resist a little teasing of the grim escort; ‘that’s scarce a word of the dales. ‘Tis more like a man-at-arms.’ This Hob would not hear, and if he did, it produced a rough imprecation on the pony, and a sharp cut with his switch. They had crossed another burn, travelled through the moss, and mounted to the brow of another hill, when, far away against the sky, on the top of yet another height, were to be seen moving figures, not cattle, but Anne recognised them at once. ‘Men-at-arms! archers! lances! A search party for me! The Prioress must have sent to the Warden’s tower.’ ‘Off with thee, lad!’ said Hob, at once turning round upon Hal. ‘I’ll not have thee lingering to gape at the men-at-arms! Off I say, or--’ He raised his stout staff as though to beat the boy, who looked up in his face with a laugh, as if in very little alarm at his threat, smiled up in the young lady’s face, and as she held out her hand with ‘Farewell, Hal; I’ll keep your rose-leaves in my breviary,’ he bent over and kissed the fingers. ‘How now! This impudence passes! As if thou wert of the same blood as the damsel!’ exclaimed Hob in considerable anger, bringing down his stick. ‘Away with thee, ill-bred lubber! Back to thy sheep, thou lazy loiterer! Get thee gone and thy whelp with thee!’ Hal obeyed, though not without a parting grin at Anne, and had sped away down the side of the hill, among the hollies and birches, which entirely concealed him and the bounding puppy. Hob went on in a gruff tone: ‘The insolence of these loutish lads! See you, lady, he is a stripling that I took up off the roadside out of mere charity, and for the love of Heaven--a mere foundling as you may say, and this is the way he presumes!’ ‘A foundling, sayest thou?’ said Anne, unable to resist teasing him a little, and trying to gratify her own curiosity. ‘Ay, you may say so! There’s a whole sort of these orphans, after all the bad luck to the land, to be picked up on every wayside.’ ‘On Towton Moor, mayhap,’ said Anne demurely, as she saw her surly guide start. But he was equal to the occasion, and answered: ‘Ay, ay, Towton Moor; ‘twas shame to see such bloody work; and there were motherless and fatherless children, stray lambs, to be met with, weeping their little hearts out, and starving all around unless some good Christian took pity on them.’ ‘Was Hal one of these?’ asked Lady Anne. ‘I tell you, lady, I looked into a church that was full of weeping and wailing folk, women and children in deadly fear of the cruel, bloody-minded York folk, and the Lord of March that is himself King Edward now, a murrain on him!’ ‘Don’t let those folk hear you say so!’ laughed Lady Anne. ‘They would think nothing of hauling thee off for a black traitor, or hanging thee up on the first tree stout enough to bear thee.’