"Where hast been, girl?" he asked sharply.
"I wearied of spinning and went out into the fields in search of appetite."
"Well, have a care. The times are going to change soon, and 'twill be well for all Ratcliffe women-folk to keep close to home."
"For fear of Waynes?" cried a lad from the table-foot, mockingly. "I thought, sir, we knew that they were courteous to foolery with all women. Have you not told us as much a score times?"
"Besides, I could not hug the threshold from morn till night; I should die for lack of wind and weather," put in the girl, with a touch of wilfulness that never came amiss to old Nicholas from his favourite one.
"There's truth in that; and I should ill like to see thee go white of cheek, Janet, like yond fool-woman who came to talk with me just now. Have a care, is all I say—and if a Wayne say aight to thee at any time——"
"I do not fear any Wayne that steps," said she, her eyes on her plate, and her thoughts on a certain spot of the moors where she had promised to keep tryst with Shameless Wayne that very afternoon.
The Lean Man fell into moodiness presently. From time to time he glanced at Robert, his eldest-born, and nodded; and from time to time he gave a laugh that was half a snarl; and Janet, watching his humour narrowly, lost even the pretence of high spirits which she had brought to meat. Her grandfather was planning mischief, as surely as a hawk meant death when it hung motionless above a cowering wild fowl; and the mischief would aim at Shameless Wayne; and she would have more than a love-errand to take her to the moors this afternoon.
Dinner over, old Nicholas called for his horse and buckled his sword-belt on.
"Come, wish me God-speed," he laughed, threading his arm through Janet's.