"When I was as young as you, John Henry," he said, "my father gave me some silkworms for a present, and I was a determined nipper and thought I'd train 'em up in the way they should go. And I gave 'em some very fine poplar leaves, which other worms be fond of. But my father warned me and said they must have lettuce. 'No, father,' I told him. 'They shall eat the poplar, because I will it. I won't have no caterpillars setting up their wills against mine.'"
"Did you make 'em, Mr. Marydrew?" asked Auna.
"I did not, my pretty. Instead, I found out that, though a small boy can put a worm on a leaf, the whole round world won't make the worm eat it—not if it isn't his food."
"And nobody won't make 'Nixie' stand on her head," vowed Peter, "because it's contrary to her nature to do such foolishness. They French poodles will larn any silly thing; but not an English dog."
John argued to the contrary; Avis and Auna tried to teach the puppies to slide on a frozen pond and John Henry, quite unconvinced, turned to pursue 'Nixie's' studies. But that wise dog had bolted home.
Then came along Jacob Bullstone, and hearing his children's voices, he turned off the road and entered the ruin. He joined the games for a few minutes; then Avis and Peter, who were in charge of the dogs, went homeward, and John Henry followed with Auna, while their father proceeded to the road beside old William.
"I've been to Owley," he said. "My brother-in-law's weakening. Doesn't like this cold weather."
The ancient laughed.
"He'll stand to it a bit longer yet. The pinch be going to come when the babby does. Then he'll have to work for the pair of 'em, and go to market instead of his wife."
"What's the matter with the man?"