Mr. Gollop grunted rudely. When conquered in argument he always reserved to himself, not the right of final speech, but the licence of final sound. On these occasions he uttered a defiant, raucous explosion, pregnant with contempt and scorn, then he hurried away. At times, under exceptional stress, he would also permit himself an offensive gesture before departing. This consisted in lifting his coat-tail and striking the part of his person that occurred beneath it. But such an insult was reserved for his acquaintance; obviously it might not be exploited against the vicar of the parish. Now Gollop marched off to 'The White Thorn,' and Masterman, turning, found that the man of whom they had recently spoken walked alone not far off. Dennis instantly approached him. It was his wish to know this member of his congregation better, but opportunity to do so had been denied. Now there was no escape for Humphrey Baskerville, because the minister extended his hand and saluted him. "How do you do, Mr. Baskerville? Glad to see you. A pretty pair of weddings, and two very popular young couples, I fancy." Humphrey admitted it. "There's no better or harder working man about here than my nephew Rupert Baskerville," he said. "So I understand. Not much of a church-goer, though, I'm afraid. However, perhaps he'll come oftener now. The bells make the tower shake, I do believe. We've never had the tenor bell rung like your son rang it, Mr. Baskerville." The old man shrugged his shoulders. "I always fancy so; but then, I've a right to fancy so. I was his father. No doubt 'tis folly. One pair of hands can pull a rope as well as another. But 'as the heart thinketh, so the bell clinketh,' though the heart of man is generally wrong. My son would have done his best to-day, no doubt, though such was his nature that he'd sooner toll alone than peal in company." "Are you going to the wedding breakfast?" "Yes; not that they really want me. 'Twas only because the boys and girls wouldn't take 'no' for an answer that I go. I doubt whether they're in earnest. But I'm glad to be there too." "Who was the fine young brown fellow in the Baskerville pew beside Mrs. Baskerville?" "Nathan Baskerville the younger. Called after my brother, the innkeeper. He's just off the sea for a bit." "A handsome man." "He is for certain." "Well, I'm very glad to meet you. I was telling Gollop that our graves are not worthy of us. We must make the churchyard tidier." They had reached the lich-gate and Dennis held Mr. Baskerville's pony while he mounted it. "Thank you," said the elder. "By the way, I've never called at Hawk House, because I've been told you wouldn't care about it." "As to that, 'tisn't whether I'd care or not, 'tis whether you ought to call or not." "You're right. Then come I shall. How about next Friday?" "I shall be there."