Such a child was sure to be constantly under the ken of his grandfather. It was barely possible for a day to pass without Christmas Williams having him under his eye half a dozen times. He could hear the shrill young voice calling up the cows before he left his chamber in the morning. He would find Chrissie swinging on the gates of his neighbours' fields, never on his own, the handsome face rosy with delight. Sometimes, in a more quiet mood, the lad would turn into the old churchyard, close beside his garden; and one day, Christmas, hidden behind a tree, hearkened to him spelling out the epitaph on his forefathers' headstones in a clear, slow voice, loud enough for half the village to hear. Was it love or hatred for the boy that filled his heart? Christmas could not tell, though to himself he called it hatred. It was a constant source of mortification and bitterness to see one of his own flesh and blood wandering about in ragged clothing, and half barefoot, and to know that he was fed by the charity of his neighbours, who were poor folks compared with himself. After all, it was but little satisfaction to look over his savings, and see how rich he was growing, while the very boy who ought in nature to be his heir was hardly better than a beggar. Not that he would leave a farthing to Easter or her child. His will was already made, and his money was bequeathed to rebuild the decaying church, of which he and his forefathers had been faithful wardens so long, and where a marble tablet on the walls should proclaim the deed and keep his memory alive. Churchwarden and constable he was yet; but the other post he had inherited from his father was gone. Though no chapel had been built in the parish, a new inn had been opened, and Christmas, in angry disgust, had not renewed his old licence. He had a farm, which occupied him in the daytime; but the evenings and nights were dreary past telling. The large old kitchen, once filled with neighbours, was now always empty and silent, and seemed to need more than ever the presence of a child to cheer it up. Christmas used to fall into half-waking, half-sleeping dreams, in which his little grandson was gambolling about the place, and filling it with noise and laughter. He could see Easter, sitting opposite to him, in the cosy chimney-corner, smiling back to him whenever she caught his eye. Why had he ever vowed that such times should never be?