"By listening first, and by talking afterwards. He don't like a chatterbox, but he don't like young folk to be too silent neither. 'Twill be a hugeous heave-up of luck if you can get on his blind side. Few can--I warn you of that. He's very fond of natural, wild things. If you was to talk about the flowers and show him you be fond of nature, it might be well. However, do as you will, he'll find out the truth of 'e." "I'm all of a tremor. I wish you hadn't told me that." "Mark might have told you. Still, for your comfort it may be said you're built the right way. You'll be near so full-blown as I be, come you pass fifty. He hates the pinikin,[1] pin-tailed sort. Be cheerful, [1] _Pinikin_--delicate. eat hearty, don't leave nothing on your plate, and wait for him to say grace afore and after meat. The rest must fall out according to your own sense and wit. Now I be going to ring the bell." "I half thought that he might come part of the way to meet me." "You thought wrong, then. He don't do that sort of thing." "I wish Mark was here, Susan." "So does Mark. But master has his own way of doing things, and 'tis generally the last way that other people would use." Mrs. Hacker rang the bell, and the thin, black figure of Humphrey Baskerville appeared and began to creep down the side of the hill. He had, of course, met Cora on previous occasions, but this was the first time that he had spoken with the girl since her betrothal. He shook hands and hoped that her mother was well. "A harvest to make up for last year," he said. "You ought to be lending a hand by rights." "I don't think Mr. Baskerville would like for Polly and me to do that. 'Tis too hot," she said. "Nathan wouldn't? Surely he would. Many hands make light work and save the time. You're a strong girl, aren't you?" "Strong as a pony, sir." "Don't call me 'sir.' And you're fond of wild nature and the country--so Mark tells me." "That I am, and the wild flowers." "Why didn't you wear a bunch of 'em then? Better them than that davered[2] rose stuck in your belt. Gold by the look of it--the belt I mean." [2] _Davered_--withered. She laughed. "I'll let you into the secret," she said. "I wanted to be smart to-day, and so I took one of my treasures. You'll never guess where this gold belt came from, Mr. Baskerville?" "Don't like it, anyway," he answered. "Why, 'twas the hat-band round my grandfather's hat! He was a beadle up to some place nigh London; and 'twas an heirloom when he died; and mother gived it to me, and here it is." He regarded the relic curiously. "A funny world, to be sure," he said. "Little did that bygone man think of such a thing when he put his braided hat on his head, I'll warrant." He relapsed into a long silence, and Cora's remarks were rewarded with no more than nods of affirmation or negation. Then, suddenly, he broke out on the subject of apparel long after she thought that he had forgotten it.