least, he must cease to listen on the hills, since his young mistress
would be at the wedding with the others.

Old Gerard said to the stranger, "Keep the straight track to the south
till you come under Wepham, then follow the valley to the east, and so
you'll be in time for the feasting, master."

"That's certain," said the stranger, "for the Lord of Combe Ivy and the
Rough Master of Coates have had no peers at junketing since Gay Street
lost its Lord; and the feast is like to go on till midnight."

With that he went on his way, and Old Gerard followed him with his
eyes, muttering,

"Would I also were there! But for you," he said, turning on the young
man with a sudden snarl, "I should be! Had ye not come a day too late,
I'd be a freedman to-night instead of to-morrow, and junketing at the
wedding with the rest."

Young Gerard did not understand him. He was not in the habit of
questioning the old man, and if he had would not have expected answers.
But certain words of the stranger had pricked his attention, and now he
said:

"Where is Gay Street?"

"Far away over the Stor and the Chill," growled Old Gerard.

"It's a jolly name."

"Maybe. But they say it's a sorry place now that it lacks its Lord."

"What became of him?"

"How should I know? What can a man know who lives all his life on a
hill with pewits for gossips?"

"You know more than I," said Young Gerard indolently. "You know there's
a wedding down yonder. Who's the Rough Master of Coates?"

"The bridegroom, young know-nothing. You've a tongue in your head
to-day."

"Why do they call him the Rough Master?"

"Because that's what he is, and so are his people, as rough as furze on
a common, they say. Have you any more questions?"

"Yes," said Young Gerard. "Who is the bride?"

"Who should the bride be? Combe Ivy's mother?"

"She's dead," said Young Gerard.

"His daughter then," scoffed Old Gerard.

Young Gerard stared at him.

"Get about your business," shouted the old shepherd with sudden wrath.
"Why do ye stare so? You're not drunk. Ah! down yonder they'll be
getting drunk without me. Enough of your idling and staring!"

He raised his staff, but Young Gerard thrust it aside so violently that
he staggered, and the boy went away to his sheep and they met no more
till evening. The whole of that day Young Gerard sat on the Mount, not
looking as usual to the busy north dreaming of the unknown land beyond
the water, but over the silent slope