Since the day he'd whipped Tessibel's son and forced his wife from his home he'd devoted himself to the little girl. In spite of his best efforts, the child's grief for her mother had driven him almost to his wits' end. He'd made up his mind to spare no expense to bring joy back to his darling.
Whenever his mind reverted to the scene at the lake he tried to justify his act in striking the little fellow, but the news of Boy's death had, for a moment, given him an uncomfortable turn. He hadn't intended anything like that. He wasn't to blame! Probably the little imp would have died anyway!
Helen had sent every day to ask after Elsie, and the thought of his wife's anxiety pleased the elder. Perhaps, after a while, the squatters, as well as the members of his own household, would learn his word was law; that he would not allow any of them to go against his will. Again and again the corner curl of his lips showed his satisfaction.
Hearing the jingle of sleigh bells at the door, he rose from his chair and slipped on his great coat and cap.
"Daddy, bring mover back," quivered Elsie, when he kissed her good-bye.
Waldstricker stooped and gathered her into his arms.
"Daddy'll bring Elsie lots of pretty things, and so will Santa Claus. He's coming down the chimney tonight—"
"Elsie wants mover," sobbed the little one.
Ebenezer surrendered her to the nurse.
"Get her mind off crying," he said morosely. "Give her everything she asks for."