"Oh, that's his great word," cried Hazel. "The old women round about say that he's trying to tell one his name. You see, they think that ... well, that he's a dead man come back and that when he was on earth he was a labourer, by name Diggory Carp." "Diggory Carp?" cried Master Nathaniel sharply. Hazel looked at him in surprise. "Did you know him, sir?" she asked. "No, no; not exactly. But I seem to have heard the name somewhere. Though I dare say in these parts it's a common enough one. Well, and what do they say about this Diggory Carp?" Hazel looked a little uneasy. "They don't say much, sir--to me. I sometimes think there must have been some mystery about him. But I know that he was a merry, kind sort of man, well liked all round, and a rare fiddler. But he came to a sad end, though I never heard what happened exactly. And they say," and here she lowered her voice mysteriously, "that once a man joins the Silent People he becomes mischievous and spiteful, however good-natured he may have been when he was alive. And if he'd been unfairly treated, as they say he was, it would make him all the more spiteful, I should think. I often think he's got something he wants to tell us, and I sometimes wonder if it's got anything to do with the old stone herm in our orchard ... he's so fond of dancing round it." "Really? And where is this old herm? I want to see all the sights of the country, you know; get my money's worth of travel!" And Master Nathaniel donned again the character of the cheerful cheesemonger, which, in the excitement of the last few minutes, he had, unwittingly, sloughed. As they walked to the orchard, which was some distance from the washing trough, Hazel said, nervously: "Perhaps you hadn't heard, sir, but I live here with my granny; at least, she isn't my real granny, though I call her so. And ... and ... well, she seems fond of old Portunus, and perhaps it would be as well not to mention to her that you had met him." "Very well; I won't mention him to her ... at present." And he gave her rather a grim little smile. Though the orchard had been stripped of its fruit, what with the red and yellow leaves, and the marvelous ruby-red of the lateral branches of the peach trees there was colour enough in the background of the old grey herm, and, in addition, there twisted around him the scarlet and gold of a vine. "I often think he's the spirit of the farm," said Hazel shyly, looking to see if Master Nathaniel was admiring her old stone friend. To her amazement, however, as soon as his eyes fell on it he clapped his hand against his thigh, and burst out laughing. "By the Sun, Moon and Stars!" he cried, "here's the answer to Portunus's riddle: 'the tree yet not a tree, the man yet not a man,'" and he repeated to Hazel the one consecutive sentence that Portunus had managed to enunciate.