"Ess, you'm a deep thinker, I doan't doubt. Now best to go; an', mind, no dealins wi' Phoebe, for that I won't stand." "I've thought that out, tu. I'll give 'e my word of honour 'pon that." "Best to seek work t'other side the Moor, if you ax me. Then you'll be out the way." "As to that, I'd guessed maybe Martin Grimbal, as have proved a gert friend to me an' be quite o' my way o' thinking, might offer garden work while I looked round. Theer ban't a spark o' pride in me--tu much sense, I hope, for that." The miller sighed. "You've done a far-reachin' thing, as hits a man from all sorts o' plaaces, like the echo in Teign Valley. I caan't see no end to it yet." "Martin Grimbal's took on Wat Widdicombe, so you needn't fule yourself he'll give 'e work," snapped Mr. Blee. "Well, theer be others." And then that sudden smile, half sly, half sweet, leapt to Will's eyes and brightened all his grave face, as the sun gladdens a grey sky after rain. "Look now, Miller Lyddon, why for shouldn't you, the biggest man to Chagford, give me a bit of work? I ban't no caddlin'[5] chap, an' for you--by God, I'd dig a mountain flat if you axed me!" [5] _Caddling_ = loafing, idling. "Well, I be gormed!" gasped Billy. It was a condition, though whether physical or mental he only knew, to which Will reduced Mr. Blee upon every occasion of their meeting. "You hold your jaw an' let me talk to Mr. Lyddon. 'Tis like this, come to look at it: who should work for 'e same as what I would? Who should think for my wife's faither wi' more of his heart than me? I'd glory to do a bit of work for 'e--aye, I would so, high or low; an' do it in a way to make you rub your eyes!" Billy saw the first-formed negative die still-born on his master's lips. He began to cry out volubly that Monks Barton was over-manned, and that scandal would blast every opening bud on the farm if such a thing happened. Will glared at him, and in another moment Mr. Blee might have suffered physically had not the miller lifted his hand and bid both be silent.