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But when I was near my time, Timothy, reckoning they'd yield then if ever, arranged to be in Chagford when I should be brought to bed. Yet 'twas ordained differ'nt, an' the roundy-poundy, wheer the caravan was drawed up when the moment corned, be just round theer on Metherill hill, as you knaws. So it happened right under the very walls of Newtake.
"You never doubted it?" "Why for should I? Will's truthful as light, whatever else he may be." "You believe as he went 'pon the Moor an' found that bwoy in a roundy-poundy under the gloamin'?" "Ess, I do." "Have'e ever looked at the laddie close?" "Oftentimes so like Will as two peas." "Theer 'tis! The picter of Will! How do'e read that?" "Never tried to. An accident, no more."
Then Will comed out hisself, an' I chaanged my thought an' followed un wheer he roamed, knawin' the colour of his mind through them black hours as if 'twas my awn. 'Twas arter he'd left the roundy-poundy wheer he was born that I put my child in it, then called tu un loud an' clear. He never knawed the voice, which was the awnly thing I feared. But a voice long silent be soon forgot.
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