"Sit here; come here; sit thee down there," he said, pointing to the ingle corner with the stem of his pipe, and then closing and bolting the door, he stalked over to the opposite corner and sat down on a rocking-chair. He eyed me musingly, and smoked steadily without making any remark. After having puffed away for ten minutes, he shouted at the top of his voice:
"Gi'e him a glass of ale, lass."
"A'm boune to, lad," replied a voice from the back-kitchen: and looking over my shoulder, I noticed that there was a woman in the little lean-to back room, "fettling up" by the light of a rush-candle.
"Thou'rt none boune to Arncliffe to-neet?" said the man, slowly withdrawing his pipe from his mouth.
"I am, if you will direct me," I replied, "for I have a friend there who is expecting me, and who will be sorely put out at my non-appearance earlier."
"Humph!"
He smoked for ten minutes more, and then said:
"And what brought thee this road?"
"I will tell you," I replied; and then proceeded to relate what had happened to me. As soon as I mentioned the strange companion I had met with—
"It's t' Boggart, lass!" called the farmer to his wife, "he's gotten agait misleading folk again."