And then at the end of June—as a matter of fact it was Midsummer day—the widow had asked him if he would not like that night to join the little herdsmen. But towards evening had come a steady downfall of rain, and the plan had fallen through.
It was not alluded to again till the end of October, three or four days before Master Nathaniel left Lud-in-the-Mist. It had been a very mild autumn in the West and the nights were fresh rather than cold, and when, that evening, the little boys came knocking at the door for their bread and cheese, the widow began to jeer at Ranulph, in a hearty jovial way, for being town-bred and never having spent a night under the sky.
"Why don't you go tonight with the little herdsmen? You wanted to when you first came here, and the Doctor said it would do you no harm."
Now Luke was feeling particularly downcast that night; no answer had come from Master Nathaniel to his letter, though it was well over a week since he had written. He felt forlorn and abandoned, with a weight of responsibility too heavy for his shoulders, and he was certainly not going to add to that weight by allowing Ranulph to run the risk of catching a bad chill. And as well, any suggestion that came from the widow was greeted by him with suspicion.
"Master Ranulph," he cried excitedly, "I can't let you go. His Worship and my old auntie wouldn't like it, what with the nights getting damp and all. No, Master Ranulph, be a good little chap and go to your bed as usual."
As he was speaking he caught Hazel's eye, and she gave him an almost imperceptible nod of approval.
But the widow cried, with a loud scornful laugh, in which Ranulph shrilly joined: "Too damp, indeed! When we haven't had so much as a drop of rain these four weeks! Don't let yourself be coddled, Master Ranulph. Young Hempen's nothing but an old maid in breeches. He's as bad as my Hazel. I've always said that if she doesn't die an old maid, it isn't that she wasn't born one!"
Hazel said nothing, but she fixed her eyes beseechingly on Luke.
But Ranulph, I fear, was a very spoiled little boy, and, into the bargain, he dearly loved annoying Luke; so he jumped up and down, shouting, "Old maid Hempen! Old maid Hempen! I'm going—so there!"
"That's right, little master!" laughed the widow. "You'll be a man before I am."