"What would you do?" asked Mrs. Belswin, curious to find out how different this man's soul was to his body.
"Do!" echoed the giant, folding his arms; "why, madam, I'd keep a fine stable, and race my horses at the Derby. I'd marry a lady, and have a fine house with servants, and the finest of wine to drink and food to eat--that's what I'd do."
"A very modest ambition, truly," said Mrs. Belswin, with a scarcely concealed sneer. "I presume you would not cultivate your brains."
"I've had enough schooling," growled Belk, stroking his beard. "Mother made me learn things, and a fine time I had of it."
"You were never a good boy, Samson," said his mother, shaking her head with a look of pride which belied her words. "Handsome is as handsome does--that's what I always tells him, my lady."
"If it were handsome does as handsome is, your son would be a clever man," replied Mrs. Belswin, rising to go.
Neither Mrs. Belk nor Samson were clever enough to understand this remark, but after a time a faint idea of what she meant dawned on the obtuse intellect of the giant, and he smiled approvingly.
"Won't you have a glass of milk, my lady?" asked Mrs. Belk, dropping a curtsey.
"No, thank you!"
"May I have the honour of showing you the nearest way through the wood, madam?" said Belk, hat in hand, resuming his polite manner, and languid mode of speaking.