"But you seem nicely fed."
I picked on.
"What is his name, old man? Don't you like to talk?"
"Adam Moss."
"Such a green, cool, soft name! It is like his house and yard and garden. What does he do?"
"Whatever he pleases."
"You must not be impertinent to me, or I'll tell him. What does he like?"
"Birds—red-birds. What do you like?"
"Red-birds! How does he catch them? Throw salt on their tails?"
"He is a lover of Nature, madam, and particularly of birds."