Wayne looked at the heap of grouse and snipe, conies and hares and moor-cock. "Well, fall to, lads," he laughed, "and I'll save my scolding till ye're primed against it.—Are ye still bent on hawking to-morrow, after this full day's sport?"
"Ay, are we!" cried Griff. "We're but the keener set to have another day of it."
"Then go; but mind ye come straight up to the washing-pool after dinner. 'Tis time ye learned the ways of farming."
The youngsters made wry faces at this as they settled themselves to the mutton-pasty.
"We met the Lean Man again to-day," said one presently, in between two goodly mouthfuls.
"And what said he to you?"
"Naught. He wore as broken a look as ever I saw, and when we rode at him with a shout——"
"Lads, lads, fight men less skilled at sword-play than the Lean Man," put in Shameless Wayne, smiling the while at their spirit.
"But he fled from us, Ned—minding the night, I warrant, when we took him in the back with yond stone ball. Yet they say he's always like that now; Nanny Witherlee tells me he sees the Dog at the side of every Wayne among us, and flees from that, not from us."
"Nanny is a fond old wife, with more tales on her tongue-tip than hairs on her thinning thatch."