t to have been abed long ago."

"Ay, sure, Measter Desmond; but I be goin' to see squire," said the old
man, apparently with some hesitation.

"That's odd. So am I. We may as well walk together, then--for fear of the
ghosts, eh, Dickon?"

"I binna afeard o' ghosts, not I. True, 'tis odd I be goin' to see
squire. I feel it so. Squire be a high man, and I ha' never dared lift up
my voice to him oothout axen. But 'tis to be. I ha' summat to tell him,
low born as I be; ay, I mun tell him, cost what it may."

"Well, he's not a dragon. I have something to tell him too--cost what it
may."

There was silence for a space. Then Dickon said tremulously:

"Bin it a great matter, yourn, sir, I make bold to axe?"

"That's as it turns out, Dickon. But what is it with you, old man? Is
aught amiss?"

"Not wi' me, sir, not wi' me, thank the Lord above. But I seed ya,
Measter Desmond, t'other day, in speech win that--that Diggle as he do
call hisself, and--and I tell ya true, sir, I dunna like the looks on
him; no, he binna a right man; an' I were afeard as he med ha' bin
fillin' yer head wi' fine tales about the wonders o' the world an' all."

"Is that all, Dickon? You fear my head may be turned, eh? Don't worry
about me."

"Why, sir, ya may think me bold, but I do say this. If so be ya gets
notions in yer head--notions o' goin' out along an' seein' the world an'
all, go up an' axe squire about it. Squire he done have a wise head;
he'll advise ya for the best; an' sure I bin he'd warn ya not to have no
dealin's win that Diggle, as he do call hissen."

"Why, does the squire know him, then?"

"'Tis my belief squire do know everything an' everybody. Diggle he med
not know, to be sure, but if so be ya say 'tis a lean man, wi' sharp
nose, an' black eyes like live coals, an' a smilin' mouth--why, squire
knows them sort, he done, and wouldna trust him not a ell. But maybe ya'd
better go on, sir: my old shanks be slow fur one so young an' nimble."

"No hurry, Dickon. Lucky the squire was used to London hours in his
youth, or we'd find him abed. See, there's a light in the Hall; 'tis in
the strong room next to the library; Sir Willoughby is reckoning up his
rents maybe, though 'tis late for that."

"Ay, ya knows the Hall, true. Theer be a terrible deal o gowd an' silver
up in that room, fur sure, more 'n a aged man like me could tell in a
week."

"The light is moving; it seems Sir Willoughby is finishing up for the
night. I