This morning, as they sat at breakfast, Nicholas was in gay spirits and very full of what must be done here and done there about the land. "Spring's here at last, and we must make the most of it, lads," he cried. "Did Earnshaw bring any men with him to do the walling?"
"Ay, sir, he brought six as shiftless as himself," laughed Red Ratcliffe.
"Well, there's a cure for shiftlessness, and I'll ride that way this morning.--Janet, 'tis a twelve-month and a day since we had plovers' eggs for breakfast, and they'll be breeding now. Thou art fond of wandering abroad to no purpose; wilt take as kindly to it if I bid thee carry a basket on thy arm?"
"Just as kindly, grandfather," said Janet, well pleased to see him in a mood so cheery; "and if my old cunning serves me, I'll bring you home a well-filled basket."
"I'll warrant thou wilt, though it takes a nimble wit to match the tricksy mother-birds.--By the Heart, this springtime gets even into old blood, methinks; let's be off, lads, for we've wasted enough of a grand morning, and there's a deal to be got through before nightfall."
"Both here and on Wayne's farm. Ay, 'tis a busy time for the moorside," said Red Ratcliffe, glancing at Nicholas as they rose from table.
The Lean Man frowned him down, but Janet had caught the glance, and she misliked her cousin's tone. She welcomed Red Ratcliffe, accordingly, with less than her wonted coldness when he followed her into the courtyard a short while afterward, for she was bent on learning what lay behind his talk of Wayne's farm.
"Thou'rt quick to set off, cousin," he said. "Tell me, do the plovers nest at Marsh House, that thou showest so eager to seek their eggs?"
"I know little of Marsh House, sir, and my way lies contrary across the moor."
"Why, then, thou wilt be glad of a companion. Say, shall I come with thee, pretty Janet?"
He sought for mockery in her face, but, finding a half encouragement there, he fell into step beside her. Then, not understanding the slant ways of women, he must needs think that all was his for the asking, if only he put a bold front on it.
"Janet," he said, "I knew thou'd'st weary of this feather-headed rogue from Marsh. Put thy hand in mine and say 'yea' to a plain question, and I'll think no more of jealousy."