“I can hardly say that. It is at the top of a bit hill, yet there’s room enough to give you rest and retirement if you should think of keeping retreat from the busy world of the town. What’s on your mind, Flemming? Are you swithering whether you’ll turn farmer or no? Let me inform you that it’s a poor occupation.”
“I’ll tell you what’s on my mind, Ballengeich, if you’ll swear piously to keep it a secret.”
“Indeed, I’ll do nothing of the sort,” replied the young man decisively. “An honest man’s bare word is as good as his bond, and the strongest oath ever sworn never yet kept a rascal from divulging a secret intrusted to him.”
“You’re right in that; you’re right in that,” the cobbler hastened to add, “but this involves others as well as myself, and all are bound to each other by oaths.”
“Then I venture to say you are engaged in some nefarious business. What is it? I’ll tell nobody, and mayhap, young as I am, I can give you some plain, useful advice from the green fields that will counteract the pernicious notions that rise in the stifling wynds of the crowded town.”
“Well, I’m not at all sure that we don’t need it, for to tell the truth I have met with a wild set of lads, and I find myself wondering how long my head will be in partnership with my body.”
“Is the case so serious as that?”
“Aye, it is.”
“Then why not withdraw?”