“Nay, but I’ll not have you gang!” he cried, shaking from head to foot with the terrible effort of finished age forcing its will upon dogged youth and strength. “You’ll stop till I’m in my grave and through an’ by with my job for good! You’ll be quit of me _then_, right enough, and free to set about any daft-like scheme you choose, but I’m not under the sod yet, and I’ll see you do as you’re bid. I was a fool ever to hark to you! I should have said nay and nay to it from the start. It’s not so long since I could have broken my stick across you, an’ I’m not feared of you, now. Am I like to be feared, d’you think”--a sneer edged his quivering voice--“of a fool as can’t stick out a bit of a disappointment, as gets sneck-posset from the lass he’s after, and bides door slapped in his face without so much as shoving a foot inside? Nay, I’ll tell you what it is, my lad! she cares nowt, I tell you--nowt----!” He stopped, for Lup had risen to his feet and bent towards him, so that over the table the two dark faces almost met, and before the steady anger of his eyes and locked lips even old Wolf was stilled. Lancaster felt the swift current of hatred and bitterness flash between them, sensed the passionate resentment, puzzle, and pain. Then Lup turned on his heel and went out. “I’ll be yoking up, sir,” he threw over his shoulder as he disappeared, and presently they heard his long, unhurrying tread across the cobbled yard. “What’s the trouble, Wolf?” Lancaster asked gently, as the clatter of hoofs and the jingle of harness came in through the open window. “What’s put the lad wrong?”