“To shaw what ’s in me. I ban’t sorry for this for some things. Now no man shall say that I’m a home-stayin’ gaby, tramping up an’ down Teign Vale for a living. I’ll step out into the wide world, same as them Grimbals done. They ’m back again made of money, the pair of ’em.”
“It took them fifteen years and more, and they were marvellously lucky.”
“What then? I’m as like to fare well as they. I’ve worked out a far-reaching plan, but the first step I’ve thought on ’s terrible coorious, an’ I reckon nobody but you’d see how it led to better things. But you ’m book-larned and wise in your way, though I wish your wisdom had done more for yourself than it has. Anyway, you ’m tokened to Chris and will be one of the family some day perhaps when Mother Coomstock dies, so I’ll leave my secret with you. But not a soul else—not mother even. So you must swear you’ll never tell to man or woman or cheel what I’ve done and wheer I be gone.”
“I’ll swear if you like.”
“By the livin’ God.”
“By any God you believe is alive.”
“Say it, then.”
“By the living God, I, Clement Hicks, bee-master of Chagford, Devon, swear to keep the secret of my friend and neighbour, William Blanchard, whatever it is.”
“And may He tear the life out of you if you so much as think to tell.”
Hicks laughed and shook his hair from his forehead.