Then Mrs. Railton began to talk, rather nervously, and Grace turned to the farmer as the light spread about the room again.  He had a thin, lined face; his shoulders were bent, and his pose was slack.  Sickness no doubt accounted for something, but Grace imagined his attitude hinted at dejection.

“How are you to-day?” she asked.

“No varra weel.  I’m none so young, and the wet and cold dinna agree with my oad bones.  Mayhappen I’ll be better soon, but noo when I’m needed I canna get aboot.”

“He’ll not can rest,” Mrs. Railton interposed.  “He was oot in sleet, boddering among t’ sheep aw day.”

“And weel you ken I had to gan,” the farmer rejoined.

Mrs. Railton’s silence implied agreement and Grace’s curiosity was excited because of something she had heard at home.  Railton’s lease of the sheepwalk ran out in a few days, but he was by local custom entitled to its renewal after a review of the terms.  Moreover, it was usual for the tenant to take the sheep with the farm, and leave them equal in number and condition when he went.  The landlord could then demand a valuation and payment of the difference, if the flocks had fallen below the proper standard.

“Why are you forced to go out in this bitter weather?” she asked.

Railton hesitated, and then saw his daughter’s meaning glance.  Lucy was clever, and he thought she wanted him to be frank.

“I had to see how sheep were,” he answered dully.  “Not that it was o’ mich use.  T’ lambs niver get over wet spring and t’ ewes is poor.  Then flock is weel under tally; I’ve lost two score Swinset Herdwicks, and the mak-up’s next Thursday.”

“But how did you lose forty sheep?” Grace asked.

“There was a hole in fell dyke and Swinset sheep are thief sheep, varra bad to hoad.  I bowt ewes there and t’ lambs followed when they wandert back to their heaf.”

Grace pondered.  She had noted some reserve in Railton’s manner when he mentioned the broken dyke and knew the flockmasters were careful about their dry walls.  The rest was plain; the heaf is the hill pasture where a lamb is born, and Swinset was fifteen miles away.  It was a very large sheepwalk and much time would be needed to find the sheep on the wide belt of moor.

“If you know the sheep are at Swinset, they would be allowed for in the count,” she said.

“I have my doubts.  Mr. Hayes sent me notice tally would be taken on Thursday and he’s a hard man.”

Grace colored.  Although she did not like Hayes, he was Osborn’s agent.  There was much she wanted to know, but she could not ask.

“Mr. Hayes cannot do exactly as he likes; he must get my father’s consent,” she said.  “However, as I am going home by the field path, I had better start before it’s dark.”

“There’s a broken gate that’s awkward to open.  I will come with you until you reach it,” Kit remarked.

They went out together.  The sleet had stopped, but leaden clouds rolled across the hills that glimmered white in the dusk.  As they struck across a wet field Grace said: