All Fallow field is paid to keep him secret; I know it for a fact.

I plied my rustic friends every night.

"Eat you yer victuals, and drink yer beer, and none o' yer pryin's and peerin's among we!" That's my rebuff from Farmer Broadmead.
And that old boy knows more than he will tell.

I saw his cunning old eye on-cock.

Be silent, Harrington.