She turned on him like a whirlwind. "If the end of the world came—here and now—you would make a jest of it."
"'If the end of the world came—here and now—you would make a jest of it.'"
"'Twould sweeten the end, at any rate. There's Irish blood in me, I tell you."
From ahead there sounded a sharp cry of command. "Hi, Meccas, all! The enemy's in front."
War had lessened the ranks of the Metcalfs, but not their discipline. Michael and his brother clutched each a horse's bridle, after helping the women to alight, and sprang to the saddle. Even Elizabeth shambled forward to take her share of hazard, and Joan found herself alone. And the gist of her thoughts was that she hated Kit, and was afraid that he would die.
She watched the Metcalfs spur forward, then slacken pace as they neared the big company coming round the bend of the road. The old Squire's voice rang down-wind to her.
"King's men, like ourselves? Ay, I see the fashion of you. And where may you be from, gentles?"
"I'm the late Governor of Knaresborough, at your service."
"And I'm the Squire of Nappa, with all that the Cropheads have left of my Riding Metcalfs."