The lonely moorside farm--if such a wild and desolate spot could be a farm--was known as "Wallhead," from the relics of some ancient wall; and the folk who lived there, or tried to live, although they possessed a surname--which is not a necessary consequence of life--very seldom used it, and more rarely still had it used for them.

For the ancient fashion still held ground of attaching the idea of a man to that of things more extensive and substantial.

So the head of the house was "Will o' the Wallhead;" his son was "Tommy o' Will o' the Wallhead;" and his grandson, "Willy o' Tommy o' Will o' the Wallhead." But the one their great lady desired to see was the unmarried daughter of the house, "Sally o' Will o' the Wallhead." Mistress Yordas knew that the men of the house would be out upon the land at this time of day, while Sally would be full of household work, and preparing their homely supper.

So she walked in bravely at the open door, while her sister waited with the pony in the yard.

Sally was clumping about in clog-shoes, with a child or two sprawling after her (for Tommy's wife was away with him at work), and if the place was not as clean as could be, it seemed as clean as need be.
The natives of this part are rough in manner, and apt to regard civility as the same thing with servility.