"Indeed there is a man," nodded Andy, and his face grew brighter. "And I should cry shame to myself because I am so impatient of this lameness which holds me back."
"Holds you back! Andy McNeal, that is rank ingratitude. You've been up to some mighty doings, that I know, or you would not be hungering for more glory. Oh, I can see a bit ahead of my nose. Time was when you hung around, not knowing glory because it had not come your way. You've tasted it, Andy, and your thirst grows. I know a thing or two. You're getting strong, too, Andy; you're an inch taller than I. Father mentioned the fact this very morning. You're taking on airs, but remember, I knew you when you were less a man. Have a care; a woman has a tongue. I'll be calling you down if you carry things with too high a hand."
Andy laughed and stood straighter. Then, very quietly:
"Andy, what was the master's name?"
"Ruth, I do not know."
"Do not, or will not tell?"
"I do not know."
"Can you tell me why he stayed here?"
"I cannot tell you, Ruth. Why do you ask?" The girl paused and dropped her clear eyes.
"They do say, the whisper has reached my father, that he was a spy, and—and a dangerous one!"