"Why, Peter—wheer be goin'?"
"To Burnham Hall, Ancient."
"What—you?" exclaimed Job; "d'ye think Squire'll see you?"
"I think so; yes."
"Well, 'e won't—they'll never let the likes o' you or me beyond the gates."
"That remains to be seen," said I.
"So you 'm goin', are ye?"
"I certainly am."
"All right!" nodded Job, "if they sets the dogs on ye, or chucks you into the road—don't go blamin' it on to me, that's all!"
"What—be ye really a-goin', Peter?"