"Do you mean little Master Ranulph Chanticleer and Luke Hempen? Why, of course I saw them! It was they who told me to come along here ... and very grateful I am to them, for I have found something well worth looking at." A look of indescribable relief flitted over Hazel's face. "Oh ... oh! I'm so glad you saw them," she faltered. "Aha! My friend Luke has evidently been making good use of his time--the young dog!" thought Master Nathaniel; and he proceeded to retail a great many imaginary sayings and doings of Luke at his new abode. Hazel was soon quite at home with the jovial, facetious old cheesemonger. She always preferred elderly men to young ones, and was soon chatting away with the abandon sometimes observable when naturally confiding people, whom circumstances have made suspicious, find someone whom they think they can trust; and Master Nathaniel was, of course, drinking in every word and longing to be in her shoes. "But, missy, it seems all work and no play!" he cried at last. "Do you get no frolics and junketings?" "Sometimes we dance of an evening, when old Portunus is here," she answered. "Portunus?" he cried sharply, "Who's he?" But this question froze her back into reserve. "An old weaver with a fiddle," she answered stiffly. "A bit doited?" Her only answer was to look at him suspiciously and say, "Do you know Portunus, sir?" "Well, I believe I met him--about half-way between here and Lud. The old fellow seemed to have something on his mind, but couldn't get it out--I've known many a parrot that talked better than he." "Oh, I've often thought that, too! That he'd something on his mind, I mean," cried Hazel on another wave of confidence. "It's as if he were trying hard to tell one something. And he often follows me as if he wanted me to do something for him. And I sometimes think I should try and help him and not be so harsh with him--but he just gives me the creeps, and I can't help it." "He gives you the creeps, does he?" "That he does!" she cried with a little shiver. "To see him gorging himself with green fruit! It isn't like a human being the way he does it--it's like an insect or a bird. And he's like a cat, too, in the way he always follows about the folk that don't like him. Oh, he's nasty! And he's spiteful, too, and mischievous. But perhaps that's not to be wondered at, if ..." and she broke off abruptly. Master Nathaniel gave her a keen look. "If what?" he said. "Oh, well--just silly talk of the country people," said Hazel evasively. "That he's--er, for instance, one of what you call the Silent People?" "How did you know?" And Hazel looked at him suspiciously. "Oh, I guessed. You see, I've heard a lot of that sort of talk since I've been in the west. Well, the old fellow certainly seemed to have something he wanted to tell me, but I can't say he was very explicit. He kept saying, over and over again, 'Dig, dig.'"