"Mode?" says I, frowning.
"Mode, Martin. Your spade beard was, then came your dagger or stiletto and now—"
"Hum!" says I, "It may be your broadsword or half-pike for aught I care. But as to yon gown—"
"Alas, poor thing! 'Twill soon look worn and ragged as you can wish, Martin. I have already lost three pearl studs, and should grieve for them were there not a coffer full of better that I wot of. O Martin, when I think of all these wonders, these great diamonds, emeralds, sapphires, pearls and rubies—I do tingle!"
"And can these toys so please you?" says I.
"Yes!" cries she, "Yes, and so would they any other that was not a stock or a stone or—Martin Conisby who is above such vanities!"
"Vanities indeed!" says I, "In this wilderness more especially."
"How if we should find the world again?"
"Hum!" says I. "But this powder and shot now—"
"Pho!" cries she, and stamping her foot turns her back on me. "Here am I yearning to show you all these hidden marvels, Martin, but I never will until you beg me—no, never! And now 'tis time you took your medicine."