“Well?” asked the Squire, seeing that a request was trembling on the child’s lips. “May I come to the church in time to walk home with you afterwards?” Again Bertie fancied that there was a pause of hesitation before the answer came. “Do you wish it very much?” “Yes, please.” “Very well. I shall be out of church by soon after four; but I am often detained a little. You may meet me by the gate of the path through the wood at twenty minutes past four. Wait for me there if I do not come at once, and we will take a walk together then.” Bertie’s face flushed with pleasure. “Oh, thank you, grandpa! That will be _very_ nice indeed!” A walk with the Squire was a rare treat; and Bertie looked forward to it with a pleasure he could not have explained. He knew beforehand that there would be no conversation. They would walk side by side, he trying hard to emulate the long strides of his big companion. Most children would have done much to avoid so dreary a promenade; but Bertie was delighted at the prospect, and wished he could hurry on the time. He watched from the staircase window whilst the Squire strode off towards the church; and then he hurried up-stairs to ask Mrs. Pritchard to let him have his overcoat and cap, for he had a plan in his head that he wished to carry out before his appointment with the Squire. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ CHAPTER XV. THE GRAVE IN THE CHURCHYARD. BERTIE set out upon his ramble that Sunday afternoon with a definite plan in his head. Although it was now November, the air was mild and sunny, and the tints upon the oak trees still glowed golden and almost scarlet as the light touched them and brought out all their varying hues. Bertie looked about him as he moved with a sense of keen enjoyment. He had grown to love very dearly the home that had been his in the new life,—the only one he had ever known, as it seemed to him now,—and he did not hurry through the park, for he had plenty of time before him. He took a quiet, rarely traversed pathway that cut diagonally across the Squire’s estate and led towards the village and the church. The rabbits, startled at the sound of his footsteps, scuttled away or darted across his path as he moved, and the child smiled as he watched their little white scuts vanishing down a friendly hole. But the rabbits and he were very good friends on the whole, and many amongst them did not condescend to fly from him, but sat up at a little distance and stared at him with their round, black, bead-like eyes. The dead leaves rustled and crackled pleasantly beneath the child’s feet as he moved. The birds had begun to sing again, after their long summer silence. The rooks were noisy in the tree-tops above him, and the sound of the church bells were musical in the soft air.