"All the same, I don't care for a man as hides behind hisself like that wool-stapler do. The Devil's got his corner in him, same as he have in every mother's son of us."
"He may have cast him out, however," ventured Putt.
"Cast him out at five-an'-thirty years of age—an' him a bachelor! No fey."
"Well, he ban't bound to belittle hisself before the likes of us," said Putt.
"Here he be, anyway," added Beer, for Grace and Peter now approached.
She was finishing the tragic history of Childe as she rode beside him.
"And so the monks of Tavistock found the poor frozen gentleman where this cross now stands, and they took him away that he might be buried in their town, for under his last will and testament those who buried him were to possess all his estates. Others sought then to gain the body; but the good monks were too clever for them, and inherited the lands of Plymstock."
"Ah! 'they must rise betime, or rather not go to bed at all, that will overreach monks in matters of profit,' as Fuller observes."
"The people hereabout call it 'Childe's Tomb,' yet it can only be a cenotaph, if the story is true."
"The whole thing is a legend, be sure. We shall never know the real use of this cross," answered Peter.