"You gave me a bit of work harvesting two year ago, master, and you didn't pull much of a long face when I told you I wasn't fond of work as a rule. I'm more broke than usual just for the minute, and rather short o' boot-leather. Can 'e give me a job?"
Nathan was famous at making work for everybody, and loafers rarely appealed to him in vain. How such an exceedingly busy man could find it in his heart to sympathise with drones, none knew. It was another of the anomalies of Mr. Baskerville's character. But he often proved good for a square meal, a day's labour and a night's rest, as many houseless folk well knew.
"You're the joker who calls himself the 'Duke of Drake's Island,' aren't you?"
"The Duke of Drake's Island" grinned and nodded. He was a worthless soul, very well known to the Devon constabulary.
"Get up to the village and call at 'The White Thorn' in an hour from now, and ask for me."
"Thank you kindly, Mr. Baskerville."
"We'll see about that later. I can find a job for you to-night; but it ain't picking primroses."
Priscilla Lintern met her landlord at the gate of Undershaugh. They were on terms of intimacy, and nodded to each other in an easy and friendly manner. She had been feeding poultry from a basin, and now set it down, wiped her fingers on her apron, and shook hands with Ned Baskerville.
"How be you, then? 'Tis a longful time since you called on us, Master Ned."
"I'm clever, thank you; and I see you are, Mrs. Lintern. And I hope Cora and Phyllis be all right too. Heathman here be growing as strong as a lion—ban't you, Heathman?"