"Where is Gay Street?"
"Far away over the Stor and the Chill," growled Old Gerard.
"It's a jolly name."
"Maybe. But they say it's a sorry place now that it lacks its Lord."
"What became of him?"
"How should I know? What can a man know who lives all his life on a hill with pewits for gossips?"
"You know more than I," said Young Gerard indolently. "You know there's a wedding down yonder. Who's the Rough Master of Coates?"
"The bridegroom, young know-nothing. You've a tongue in your head to-day."
"Why do they call him the Rough Master?"
"Because that's what he is, and so are his people, as rough as furze on a common, they say. Have you any more questions?"