“Well, Simon?” she answered, without surprise. She was no lass in her teens, to think that grown men welcome fright; and so she did not scream, sudden as his intrusion was. “I’ve been thinking, lass.” “And so have I. The roan cow is easier, thanks to me; and all the while I put the salt-bags on, and cosseted her, and teased her back to health, I thought a deal, Simon.” “What, of me?” he asked, with a sprightly air. An owl, far down the sloping fields, sounded her call as she swooped to kill rats and field-mice for her larder. And Martha, though the light from her lanthorn was dim enough to hide it, could not forego a touch of coquetry. “Of you?” she laughed, setting a finger to her dimpled cheek. “Hark to yond owl. You’re all alike, you hunting-folk; you’ve the masterful, sharp voice with you.” “Seems somebody has got to be masterful these days. I’ve driven sheep to market, and I’ve tried to drive pigs, and I’ve handled skew-tempered horses; but for sheer, daft contrariness, give me a houseful o’ women, with few men to guide ’em.” “You’re not liking women these days?” said Martha tartly. “Aye, by ones or twos. It’s when they swarm about a house, like a hive o’ bees, that lone men get feared, like, o’ your indoor fooleries. Anyway, Martha, I wish I were out with Sir Jasper--just as Master Rupert does.” “And you talked of--of liking me--not so very long since.” “Aye, and meant it; but how’s a man to find speech wi’ the one lass he wants, when yard and kitchen’s filled wi’ women he’s never a need for?” “Well, that’s how I feel,” said Martha, unexpectedly. “Women are made that way, Simon; they’re silly when they herd too thick together.” “There’s like to be a change before so very long,” put in the other hurriedly, as if he talked of the next day’s ride to market. “It seems this bonnie Prince they make such a crack of has turned back from Derby. And we’re near the line they’ll take, Martha; and, please God, there’s a chance the fight will come Windyhough way.” “And you’ll be killed, Simon?” she said, coming so close to him that the horn-top of her lantern scorched his hand. “Maybe not. There’s two sides go to a killing, same as to a bargain. It might happen, like, that t’other lad went down.” “But what of me, Simon, if--if it chanced otherwise?” “I’m not meaning to let it chance otherwise, my lass. I’ve you to think of these days.” And then he drew apart, after the fashion of men when war is in the air. “Master Rupert shapes gradely,” he said. “I always said he had the makings of a soldier in him.” “Oh, he’s a scholar,” said Martha. “I like him well enough--we all do--but he wears his head i’ the clouds, Simon.” “Tuts! He’s never had his chance. You’re all for young Master Maurice; he’s stronger and more showy, as second bairns are apt to be; but gi’e me the young master’s settled pluck.”