They glanced along the road and, from Hember standing boldly out from the hillside, it was as if Wastralls lay in a hollow.
"Why," said Richbell, with suddenly awakened interest, "look, mammy, some one's still up down there. There's a light in the kitchen window."
"'Tis late, too."
The girl shivered and drew nearer to her mother. "I expect it's Uncle Leadville cleaning that old gun of his. I can't abide to see him rubbing away at it. That's all he do, all day long."
"Poor old sawl, that's all 'e 'av got to do."
"Mammy," her voice had lost its gaiety and self-confidence. She was a young creature, obscurely frightened. "I wish I wasn't going down there."
Mrs. Tom spoke sharply. "Why? 'Av Gray been talkin' to yer?"
"No, Gray's close as anything, but what is it?"
"Oh, my dear, 'tis nothing but 'er fancy. There, go along, I bain't going to tell 'ee."
"I don't need for Gray to tell me Wastralls is a whisht old house for young maidens."