"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.