breds, and nodded to
this man, and "good-morninged" that, with some degree of
condescension. He knew that he was courted, and admired, and deferred
to, because of his riches, and was quite satisfied that it should be
so. He did not wish to be thought ill-natured, so he gave, every year,
a treat to his workpeople, and sent money, and coal, and blankets to
the poor at Christmas, but he thought little more about them. They
were poor, and he was rich; those two words, "poor" and "rich,"
indicated a great difference, and he was quite well pleased there
should be such a difference.

One summer morning, he was taking a ride through the woods that
skirted one side of his estate. It was very hot, and in the lanes the
sun and the flies teased both him and his horse, so when they turned
in beneath the shadows of the oaks and beeches, it was a great relief
to both. The squire gave Dandy the rein, and went along softly. He was
soon thinking of other things than oaks and beeches. Perhaps the
glitter of the sunshine here and there, as it lay upon a cluster of
trembling leaves, or turned to richer red the tall heads of the willow
herb beside his path, suggested the crimson draperies and gilded
ornaments of his home, for he was thinking of a sight he had seen
there only the day before; when there had been at the birthday of his
eldest son a grand gathering of friends, and a feast such as a rich
man makes to the rich, with dainties, and spices, and wines, served in
gold, and silver, and rarest china, in the utmost profusion, and with
the greatest display. He remembered the hilarity of the guests, the
healths drank, the speeches made, the compliments so freely given and
taken; and with some pride he remembered, too, it had been said, that
within the memory of man, no one had given so grand a feast in the
parish as he had done that day.

Dandy's feet fell softly, and made little noise on the soft carpet of
grass and last year's leaves, that covered and hid the stout roots of
the oaks. It was no wonder, then, that presently the squire heard a
gentle sound not far away. He became aware that some other human being
than himself was in the wood, and checking his horse, he listened a
moment, as words, half prayer, half praise, met his ears. "Who can be
praying here?" he asked himself, and as the voice was near, he pushed
aside a bough or two, and stretched his head, till he could see into a
little shady hollow not far from the roadside, and di