Driving up into the station, he was greeted by a flyman waiting for hire.
"Bad on the laal mare, ma man--two sec journeys in ya half day. I reckon tha knows it's been here afore?"
Natt's face broadened into a superior smile, which seemed to desire his gratuitous informant to tell him something he didn't know. This unspoken request was about to be gratified.
Natt waved his hand in silent censure of so much unnecessary zeal, and passed on.
Promptly as the clock struck eight, the London train drew up at the station, and a minute afterward Paul Ritson came out. "Here he be, of course," thought Natt.
Paul was in great spirits. His face wore the brightest smile, and his voice had the cheeriest ring. His clothes, seen by the lamp, looked a little draggled and dirty.
He swung himself into the trap, took the driver's seat and the reins and rattled along with cheerful talk.
It was months since Natt had witnessed such an access of geniality on Paul's part.
"Too good to be true," thought Natt, who, in his own wise way, was silently making a study in histrionics.
"Anything fresh while I've been away?" asked Paul.
"Nothing new? Nobody's cow calved? The mare not lost her hindmost shoe--nothing?" asked Paul, and laughed.
"I know no more nor you," said Natt, in a grumpy tone.
Paul looked at him and laughed again. Not to-night were good spirits like his to be quenched by a servant's ill humor.
They drove some distance without speaking, the silence being broken only by Paul's coaxing appeals to the old mare to quicken the pace that was carrying him to somebody who was waiting at the vicarage.
Natt recovered from his natural dudgeon at an attempt to play upon him, and began to feel the humor of the situation. It was good sport, after all--this little trick of Master Paul. And the best of it was that nobody saw through it but Natt himself. Natt began to titter and look up significantly out of his sleepy eyes into Paul's face. Paul glanced back with a look of bewilderment; but of course that was only a part of the game.
"Keep it up," thought Natt; "how we are doing 'em!"
The landscape lying south was a valley, with a double gable of mountains at the top; the mill stood on a knoll two miles further up, and on any night but the darkest its black outlines could be dimly seen against the sky that crept down between these fells. There was no moon visible, but the moon's light was behind the clouds.