"Well, well, Jacob, as you saw her and me so close, I'll not deny it. A lass will get fractious, you know, when a fellow is expected, and don't come up to time, and follow one up, you understand. We have been sweethearting so long, and the old ones being agreeable, perhaps she is a trifle over restless about my hanging back."
"Aye, aye. This story about the young maister being o'er fond of her. I wouldn't put up with that."
Storms nodded his head mysteriously.
"You'll say nothing about her coming to seek me that night."
"In course not. Only I wouldn't a thought it of Jessup's lass, she looks so modest like."
"But when a lass is—is—"
"O'er fond, and afraid of losing her sweetheart. Still, I wouldn't a thought it of her anyhow."
"You're not to think hard of her for anything, friend Jacob, because we may be wed after all, and no one must have a fling at my wife, mind that. When I give her up will be time enough."
The gamekeeper laughed, and nodded his head, perhaps amused at the idea that a bit of gossip, like that, could escape circulation, in a place already excited on the subject of Jessup and his daughter. Storms having given the impression he desired, took a watch from his pocket, and glanced at the dial.
"It's wonderful how time flits," he said, putting the watch back. "It's near dinner-time, and the old man will be waiting. Mind that you keep a close mouth. Good-day!"