"Up along there," said the labourer, pointing with his finger.
"Yes; in that direction."
"With a bit o' garden round en?" volunteered the labourer.
"Ay, with a garden round it."
"And a swing gate before en----"
"'Tis so. And a swing gate opening into the garden. Apple-trees before the house----"
"Standing back from the road the house be?" said the labourer, moving his lips as one might do preparatory to the imbibing of a deep draught of the best cider in the county.
"It is warmish," said the stranger, with a look of sly enjoyment. "Yes, standing back from the road the house is."
"That be the Silver Flagon."
The stranger leaped off the stile with a sudden cry.