And then they turn to look at the west window,—the new window, the boast of the parish,—at which even old Solomon strains his withered eyes with a sense of pride. The man of business stands where Jan used to sit. The unchanged faces look down on him from the old window. But it is not the old window that he looks at, it is the new one. The glory of the setting sun illumines it, and throws crimson lights from the vesture of the principal figure—like stains of blood—upon the pavement. “It be the Good Shepherd,” Master Chuter explains, but his guest is silent. The pale-faced, white-haired angels in the upper lights seem all ablaze, and Old Solomon cannot look at them. “Them sheep be beautiful,” whispers the innkeeper; but the stranger heeds him not. He is reading the inscription:— _To the Glory of GOD_, _And in pious memory of Abel_, _my dear foster-brother_: _I_, _who designed this window_, _Dedicate it_. _HE shall gather the lambs into His arms_. FOOTNOTES. {14} Windmiller’s candlesticks are flat candlesticks made of iron, with a long handle on one side, and a sharp spike on the other, by which they can be stuck into the wall, or into a sack of grain, or anywhere that may be convenient. Each man who works in the mill has a candlestick, and one is always kept alight and stationary on the basement floor. {238} The blue marks on the hands of a miller who “sets” his own stones are called in the trade the “miller’s coat of arms.”