"A black coat and a white neckcloth, to begin with." "He dresses in grey," said Diana laughing, "or in white; and wears any sort of a cravat." "To go on,--Generally a grave face and a manner of great propriety; with a square way of arranging words." "Mr. Masters has no manner at all; and he is one of the most entertaining people I ever knew." "Jolly sort, eh?" "No, I think not," said Diana; "I don't know exactly what you mean by jolly; he is never silly, and he does not laugh much particularly; but he can make other people laugh." "Well, another sign is, they put a religious varnish over common things. Do you recognise that?" "I recognise that, for I have seen it; but it isn't true of Mr. Masters." "I give him up," said young Knowlton. "I am sure I shouldn't like him." "Why, do you _like_ these common signs of the 'parson language,' as you call it, that you have been reckoning?" The answer was a decided negative accompanied with a laugh again; and then Diana's visitor turned the conversation to the country, and the place, and the elm trees; looked out of the window and observed that the haymakers were at work near the house, and finally said he must go out to look at them nearer--he had not made hay since he was a boy. He went out, and Diana went back to her mother in the lean-to. "Mother, young Mr. Knowlton is here." "Well, keep him out o' _my_ way; that's all I ask." "Haven't you got through yet?" "Through! There was but one single pan of ginger-bread left this noon; and there ain't more'n three loaves o' bread in the pantry. What's that among a tribe o' such grampuses? I've got to make biscuits for tea, Di; and I may as well get the pie-crust off my hands at the same time; it'll be so much done for to-morrow. I wish you'd pick over the berries. And then I'll find you something else to do. If I had six hands and two heads, I guess I could about get along." "But, mother, it won't do for nobody to be in the parlour." "I thought he was gone?" "Only gone out into the field to see the haymakers." "Queer company!" said Mrs. Starling, leaving her bowl of dough, with flowery hands, to peer out of a window. "You may make your mind easy, Di; he won't come in again. I declare! he's got his coat off and he's gone at it himself; ain't that him?" Diana looked and allowed that it was. Mr. Knowlton had got a rake in hand, his coat hung on the fence, and he was raking hay as busily as the best of them. Diana gave a little sigh, and turned to her pan of berries. This young officer was a new language to her, and she would have liked, she thought, to spell out a little more of its graceful peculiarities. The berries took a good while. Meantime Mrs. Starling's biscuit went into the oven, and a sweet smell began to come thereout. Mrs. Starling bustled about setting the table; with cold pork and pickles, and cheese and berry pie, and piles of bread brown and white. Clearly the haymakers were expected to supper.