“An’ I’m beholden enough for that. You wait an’ keep your eye on me. I’ll shaw you what’s in me yet. I’ll surprise ’e, I promise. Nobody in these paarts ’cept mother, knaws what ’s in me. But, wi’out boastful words, I’ll prove it. Because, Miller, I may assure ’e I’m a man as have thought a lot in my time ’bout things in general.”
“Ess, you’m a deep thinker, I doan’t doubt. Now best to go; an’, mind, no dealins wi’ Phoebe, for that I won’t stand.”
“I’ve thought that out, tu. I’ll give ’e my word of honour ’pon that.”
“Best to seek work t’other side the Moor, if you ax me. Then you’ll be out the way.”
“As to that, I’d guessed maybe Martin Grimbal, as have proved a gert friend to me an’ be quite o’ my way o’ thinking, might offer garden work while I looked round. Theer ban’t a spark o’ pride in me—tu much sense, I hope, for that.”
The miller sighed.
“You’ve done a far-reachin’ thing, as hits a man from all sorts o’ plaaces, like the echo in Teign Valley. I caan’t see no end to it yet.”
“Martin Grimbal’s took on Wat Widdicombe, so you needn’t fule yourself he’ll give ’e work,” snapped Mr. Blee.
“Well, theer be others.”
And then that sudden smile, half sly, half sweet, leapt to Will’s eyes and brightened all his grave face, as the sun gladdens a grey sky after rain.