"Well for him that the old farmer has his gout on, if he is familiar with the way through that hedge," observed the Squire. "But if Farmer Bluff suffers that way, his dog Blazer doesn't; and the dog isn't a whit more bland-tempered than his master."
"Oh, grandfather!" put in Hal, who was listening as usual, his keen eyes moving quickly from one to the other of the speakers. "Blazer is ever so much nicer than Grip. He's an honest old doggie."
"Perhaps Farmer Bluff might become an honest old bailiff in your hands, my boy," returned his grandfather, "if only his gout allowed him to live long enough to see you in power. This is Hal, the coming man," continued he to Grantley; "the eldest son of your old schoolfellow, who will be Squire in my stead one of these days, I hope."
Grantley said something pleasant in answer to this information; but Hal could not help feeling that he cast a pitying glance at his crutches and irons.
"I hope I shall be as good a Squire as you, grandfather," said he in a low voice.
"Aim at being better, my boy," returned his grandfather, laying a fond hand on his shoulder. "The higher our ideal, the higher we may hope to reach. Set before yourself not the Squire your old grandfather has been, but the Squire Christ Jesus would have been if He—the only perfect man—had been Lord of the Manor to the people here."
And somehow, with his grandfather's words, it came over the cripple boy, that with such an ideal before him, it would not so very much matter to his squireship if he could not follow the hounds or ride in the steeplechase.
Then they set forward, and presently they met Dick Crozier on his way back from witnessing Bill's encounter with the goose.
The Squire stopped.
"Well, Master Dick," said he, for he rarely forgot a name, "you're out early; and you haven't missed your way to-day."