"As well as their advantages," said Jeff Ironside enigmatically.
CHAPTER IV
CORN
"Master Jeff!" The kitchen door opened with a nervous creak and a wrinkled brown face, encircled by the frills of a muslin nightcap, peered cautiously in. "Are you asleep, my dear?" asked Granny Grimshaw with tender solicitude.
He was sitting at the table with his elbows upon it and his head in his hands. She saw the smoke curling upwards from his pipe, and rightly deduced from this that he was not asleep.
She came forward, candle in hand. "Master Jeff, you'll pardon me, I'm sure. But it's getting so late—nigh upon twelve o'clock. You won't be getting anything of a night's rest if you don't go to bed."
Jeff raised his head. His eyes, sombre with thought, met hers. "Is it late?" he said abstractedly.
"And you such an early riser," said Granny Grimshaw.
She went across to the fire and began to rake it out, he watching her in silence, still with that sombre look in his dark eyes.