“Here, at hand; but what do you mean to do?”
“Nothing, but get out of hearing and sight; for your long tongue, Ben, and significant face, would blab any secret, however deep.”
“Ah! did I not say that I would find you out? Did you get my last letter?”
“Ay, I did: but I'm devilish sorry, Ben, that you've come. You'll do mischief. You have always been a mar-plot.”
“Never, never! You don't know me.”
“Don't I?—but get your horse, and let's go into the woods, while we talk over matters.”
“Why not leave the nags here?”
“For a very good reason. My course lies in that direction, so that I am in my way; while yours, if your purpose be to go back to Frankfort, will lie on the upper side. Neither of us need come back to the village.”
“And you think to shuffle me off so soon, do you?”
“What would you have me do?”