“Yu should be to home with your sick wife, Nat,” he said to one man who was sober, but had plainly been enjoying the revel as much as the rest. “What good du yu think can come of wasting good zyder over the trees, and singing yon vulish song to them? Go home to your sick wife and remember the true Christmas joy when the morrow comes. All this is but idle volly.” “Nay, nay, maister,” answered the man, with sheepish submission in his tone, albeit he could not admit any folly in the time-honoured custom. “Yu knaw farmer he wants a ’bundant craap of awples next year, an we awl of us knaw tha’ the trees widden gi’ us a bit ef we didden holler a bit tu ’m the night.” “Nay, nay, Nat, it’s not your hollering that makes the trees give of their abundance,” answered Abner, with gentle sadness in his tone. “It’s the abiding promise of the Lord that seed-time and harvest shall not vail. Go home, go home, and mind thy wife.” “Ay, ay, maister, I’m gwoan,” answered the man, and beat a hasty retreat, secretly wondering whether one of these days the black witches wouldn’t “overlook” Abner’s house and affairs generally, since he was known for a man of such peculiar views. The Duke’s head-gardener was looked upon with considerable respect by the mere labourers, and always addressed as “maister” by them. He came of a good stock himself; and from having been so much with the “quality,” he could speak pure English as easily as the Saxon vernacular of the peasantry. It was constant conversation with him which had given to Saul his command of language. From the time of his birth till he began to earn his own bread, Saul had lived with his grandfather; and it had been a disappointment to the old man that his grandson had refused the place of garden boy offered him by the Duchess when he was old enough to be of use on the place. Before that he had scared birds for Farmer Teazel, and had done odd jobs about the farm; and to the surprise of all who knew the prestige and advantages attached to the service of the Duke, the lad had elected to continue a servant of the farmer rather than work in the ducal gardens. The grandfather had not attempted to coerce his grandson, but had let him follow his own bent, although he thought he was making a mistake, and was perplexed and pained by his independent attitude.