"You've a good mind to go and tell him you've a good mind?" queried the stranger, in a quiet bantering tone.
"To tell en ye're up to no good; seeking to know all about en--whether he be rich and where he lives. Danged if I don't b'lieve ye're one o' them London chaps come down along here wi' designs!"
"A peripatetic architect," said the stranger, laughing heartily. "Thank you for the compliment, my rustic sage. I am nothing so dignified as that, believe me. But allow me to correct you. You yourself volunteered the information as to the whereabouts of Mr. Weston's house; the information may be useful to me."
"May en! Danged if I don't go and tell en!"
The stranger stood aside to allow the labourer to cross the stile.
"Come after me if ye dare!" cried the labourer.
"I dare do all that may become a man," replied the stranger; and also crossing the stile, he leisurely followed the labourer, who took care to keep at a fair distance.
They had not to walk far. Round another bend in the lane, where it broadened unexpectedly, and where great tufts of feather-grass were swinging their fairy bells over a brook, they came upon Mr. Weston resting himself. He turned towards them at their approach. The labourer took off his cap, and pawed the ground servilely with his left foot; and then found himself in a difficulty. He had not the wit to lead up to the attack gently, and with the consciousness upon him of the stranger's superior flow of speech, he felt himself at a disadvantage. If the stranger would speak first, he could take up his words; but the stranger stood provokingly calm and silent.
"Well," said Mr. Weston.
The sense of injury under which the man laboured gave him courage.