"Yes; 'tis Tim Waite this time," answered Cora's brother. "I shouldn't envy him much--or any man who had to live his life along with her." "You're right there: no heart--that's what was left out when she was a-making. She told me the news a bit ago, just when I was giving her a rap over the knuckles on account of that other fool, Ned Baskerville. And she got the best of the argument--I'll allow that. In fact, you might say she scored off me proper, for I told her that no decent chap would ever look at her again, and what does she answer? Why, that Tim Waite's took her." "Yes, 'tis so. He and me was talking a bit ago. He'll rule her." "But I got it back on Cora," continued Mr. Head. "I'm not the sort to be beat in argument and forget it. Not I! I'll wait, if need be, for a month of Sundays afore I make my answer; but I always laugh last, and none don't ever get the whip-hand of me for long. And last week I caught up with her again, as we was travelling by the same road, and I gave her hell's delights, and told her the ugly truth about herself till she could have strangled me if she'd been strong enough." "I know you did. She came home in a pretty tantara--blue with temper; and she's going to tell Waite about it. But don't you sing small, Jack; don't you let Timothy bully you." "No man bullies me," said Head; "least and last of all a young man. Waite have too much sense, I should hope, to fall foul of me. But if it comes to that, I can give him better than he'll give me--a long sight better, too." "The Cadworthy people have been a bit off us since Cora dropped Ned," declared Heathman. "No wonder, neither, but my mother's cruel galled about it. 'Twasn't her fault, however. Still, that's how it lies." Mr. Head was examining this situation when the people began to come out of church. He rose, therefore, and went his way, while Heathman also departed. Many returned to the outraged grave, but all was restored to order, and nothing remained to see. CHAPTER VIII Jack Head presently carried his notorious grievances to Humphrey Baskerville, and waited upon him one evening in summer time. They had not met for many weeks, and Jack, though he found little leisure to mark the ways of other people at this season, could not fail to note a certain unwonted cheerfulness in the master of Hawk House. Humphrey's saturnine spirit was at rest for the moment. To-night he talked upon a personal topic, and found evident pleasure in a circumstance which, from the standpoint of his visitor, appeared exceedingly trivial. The usual relations of these men seemed changed, and Mr. Baskerville showed the more reasonable and contented mind, while Jack displayed an active distrust of everything and everybody. "I wanted a bit of a tell with you," he began, "and thought I might come over." "Come in and welcome," answered Humphrey. "I hope I see you pretty middling?" "Yes, well enough for that matter. And you?"