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."