"Do 'ee think you'll git in?" laughed Uncle Anthony.
"Yes," I replied, "the Killigrews are of an old Cornish family, they will give shelter to a traveller."
He eyed me keenly. "A traveller! Ugh! a purty traveller. But doan't 'ee be sa sure of gittin' into Endellion!"
"Go you there?"
"Iss," he replied.
"Then if you can get shelter, why not I?"
"I—I?" he retorted sharply. "I go everywhere. Nobody'll zay no to ould Ant'ny. I zing, an' tell taales, an' shaw 'em wizard's tricks, I do."
"Then if we go as fellow-travellers, both will be taken in."
"I zeed 'ee at Wadebridge," he said. "You come from a long way off, you do. Wa's yer name, young squire?"
"Roger Penryn."