Bryde was at his furrow again when Hugh joined us with his very braw clothes, and he was a little dour-looking.
"We're all on the moor these days," says he, "and keeping a man from his work seemingly."
"But now you have come we will ride to Scaurdale," said Helen, but
Margaret would not be heeding.
"I am to see my cousin's wife," says she, "in the house yonder, with Hamish here; but here is Hugh on edge to be on the Scaurdale road, and Bryde eager to be ploughing." So Margaret and I made our way to the house, and it was hard to be knowing where the shepherd's hut was among the outbuildings of the steading, and as we turned into the stackyard and watched Hugh and Mistress Helen ride on, Margaret turned to me.
"Is it not droll," said she, "that a man o' my folk, my own brother, cannot be putting a ring on the finger of an easy lass like that?"
"Are you thinking she is easy?" said I.
"I am thinking she is a merry lass and wants a bold man—she will be loving a bold man."
"I think that too."
"Who is it?" said Margaret, like a flash.
"Oh, just Hugh."