He regarded the warder gravely and inquiringly, but as the red-faced man slowly sucked up the humour of the situation, his mouth expanded and his eyes almost disappeared.  Then he spoke through outbursts and shakings of deep laughter.

“Oh Lard!  Wheerever was you born to?”

Will flushed deeply, frowned, and clenched his fists at this question.

“Shut your gert mouth!” he said angrily.  “Doan’t bellow like that, or I’ll hit ’e awver the jaw!  Do’e think I want the whole of Exeter City to knaw my errand?  What’s theer to gape an’ snigger at?  Caan’t ’e treat a man civil?”

This reproof set the official off again, and only a furious demand from Blanchard to go about his business and tell the Governor he wanted an interview partially steadied him.

“By Gor! you’ll be the death of me.  Caan’t help it—­honour bright—­doan’t mean no rudeness to you.  Bless your young heart, an’ the gal’s, whoever she be.  Didn’t ’e knaw?  But theer! course you didn’t, else you wouldn’t be here.  Why, ’t is purty near as hard to get in prison as out again.  You’ll have to be locked up, an’ tried by judge an’ jury, and plead guilty, and be sentenced, an’ the Lard He knaws what beside ‘fore you come here.  How do the lawyers an’ p’licemen get their living?”

“That’s news.  I hoped to save Miller Lyddon all such trouble.”

“Why not try another way, an’ see if you can get the auld gentleman to forgive ’e?”

“Not him.  He’ll have the law in due time.”

“Well, I’m ‘mazin’ sorry I caan’t oblige ’e, for I’m sure we’d be gude friends, an’ you’d cheer us all up butivul.”

“But you ’m certain it caan’t be managed?”

“Positive.”

“Then I’ve done all a man can.  You’ll bear witness I wanted to come, won’t ’e?”

“Oh yes, I’ll take my oath o’ that. I shaan’t forget ’e.”

“All right.  And if I’m sent here again, bimebye, I’ll look out for you, and I hopes you’ll be as pleasant inside as now.”

“I’ll promise that.  Shall be awnly tu pleased to make you at home.  I like you; though, to be frank, I reckon you’m tu gnat-brained a chap to make a wife happy.”

“Then you reckon a damned impedent thing!  What d’ you knaw ’bout it?”

“A tidy deal.  I’ve been married more years than you have hours, I lay.”

“Age ban’t everything; ’t is the fashion brains in a man’s head counts most.”

“That’s right enough.  ’T is something to knaw that.  Gude-bye to ’e, bwoy, an’ thank you for makin’ me laugh heartier than I have this month of Sundays.”

“More fule you!” declared Will; but he was too elated at the turn of affairs to be anything but amiable just now.  Before the other disappeared, he stopped him.

“Shake hands, will ‘e?  I thank you for lightenin’ my mind—­bein’ a man of law, in a manner of speakin’.  Ess, I’m obliged to ’e.  Of coourse I doan’t want to come to prison ’zackly.  That’s common sense.”