At cockcrow came the call which in that orchard was now as familiar as the rooster's.
"Maids! Maids! Maids!"
Martin Pippin was leaning over the green wicket throwing jam tarts to the ducks. Because in the Well-House Gillian had not left so much as a crumb. But when he heard Old Gillman's voice, he flicked a bull's-eye at the drake, getting it very accurately on the bill, and walked across to the gap.
"Good morning, master," said Martin cheerfully. "Pray how does Lemon, Joscelyn's Sussex, fare?"
Old Gillman put down his loaves with great deliberation, and spent a few minutes taking Martin in. Then he answered, "There's scant milk to a Sussex, and allus will be. And if there was not, there'd be none to Joscelyn's Lemon. And if there was, it would take more than Henry to draw it. And so that's you, is it?"
"That's me," said Martin Pippin.
"Well," said Old Gillman, "I've spent the best of six mornings trying not to see ye. And has my daughter taken the right road yet?"
"Yes, master," said Martin, "she has taken the road to Adversane."
"Which SHE'S spent the best of six months trying not to see," said Old Gillman. "Women's a nuisance. Allus for taking the long cut round."
"I've known many a short cut," said Martin, "to end in a blind alley."