Runners Argue at the Stile
- Cheap passage
- A quick catch
- Busier than the day
- Passage slackens
On the combe path below Cinder Brow, Joss Penrude of the Foundry and Lisbet Corfe of Fishpond met at the stile with wick-slips held out like tallies. Each had been sent up the wrong lane once this month, and neither meant to be sent again. They argued over the stile, then the shorter path, and by the time they agreed to walk down, the Antswarm’s runner had gone past with the chit in his teeth.