“Ankaret!” it said. “Ankaret! An-ka-ret!”
“Ha! That’s Her!” whispered Dan, as if he were awed by the sound.
An answering scream, as shrill, but scarcely so loud, came from the neighbouring cottage.
“Whatever do you want now?” said the second shriek.
“What dost thou yonder, thou slatternly minx?” returned the first. “I’ll mash every bone of thee, if thou doesn’t come in this minute!”
“Then I sha’n’t!” shrieked the second voice. “Two can play at that.”
“Who is Ankaret?” asked Father Thomas of the smith.
“She’s th’ eldest o’ th’ dragons—that’s our Ank’ret,” said Dan in the same half-frightened whisper. “If you mun face Her, you’d best do it while Ank’ret’s next door: both on ’em’s too much for any man. Th’ Angel Gabriel couldn’t match the pair on ’em: leastwise, if he comes down to axe me, I sha’n’t send him forward. And don’t you go and say I sent you, now. For pity’s sake, don’t!”
Father Thomas walked off, and knocked at the house door. He was beginning to think that if the former part of his task had been easier than he expected, the latter was going to prove more difficult. The door was opened by a young woman.
“Good day, my daughter. Is thy mother within?”