ELIJAH WALROND, or Old 'Lijah as he was commonly called, was a small tenant farmer, who, by dint of hard work, hard living, and saving, had contrived to lay by enough money to make a frugal provision for his old age. 'Lijah's wife died the year before he quitted the farm that had been their home for forty years, and when he lost her it was like losing a part of himself. He was never the same man again. It took the heart out of his work when there was no wife to talk it over with; he could not relish the food prepared by a strange hand, and he lay awake at nights in his loneliness, staring into the darkness with tearless eyes. There was nothing left to make life sweet to him, and his seventy years weighed on him like a hundred. Then he asked his landlord to let him off the short remainder of his lease, and he left the farm to live in the white cottage with the big garden down by the common.

      His neighbours said that Old 'Lijah would go silly with loneliness all by himself, for he saw nobody and spoke to no one but the woman who came to clean and to do his bit of cooking. He seldom left the house, and never went beyond the garden, and he had not entered the church since the day of his wife's funeral. The rector of the parish, who had known Elijah Walrond many years, called to ask him why he never saw him in his accustomed place on a Sunday, but the old man would only reply, "I canna do it, sir; I canna do it! 'Er'd used to go to church with me, and I canna go alone," and lapse into silence again. There was no one at home now to care what he did, or whether he was well or ill, so he ceased to strive against stiffness and rheumatism, and crept along with the help of a stick, with bowed shoulders, as though he carried a heavy burden. Old 'Lijah was in a parlous state, both of body and mind, when one day the very best thing that could happen befell him, though it came about through someone else's sorrow.

      'Lijah had an only child — a daughter — who some years previously had married a ne'er-do-well of the name of Grove, and lived with him in the north of England, where, after a short career of idleness and poverty, he died, leaving Jane a widow with one little child. Jane Grove had not a farthing in the world to call her own when she had paid her fare to travel southwards to her father, and her sticks of furniture had been sold to pay for her husband's burial, for her honest pride revolted at a pauper's funeral. She knew that her father had left the farm, but in however poor a place he lived now, he would not shut the door upon his daughter, though he had been displeased with her for marrying as she did. But bygones were bygones, and though the mother, who would have welcomed her child, was dead, Jane could cook and work for her father, and make the meanest place seem like home; and good as her intentions were towards the old man, she could not tell — no one could have told — the kindness she was about to do him.

      Jane Grove reached her father's cottage in the grey of a summer evening, weary and footsore with her long walk from the station, carrying her sleeping child in her arms. She inquired from a man whom she met crossing the common where Elijah Walrond lived, and he pointed out to her the little white cottage with the big garden. Slowly she walked up the long, narrow path, with its straggling border of sweet-smelling pinks, wondering that the place was so untidy and ill-kept, till she stood on the threshold of the half-opened door. She tapped timidly, and no one replying to her knock, she looked into the kitchen, and there sat her father dozing in his chair by the chimney corner. She was shocked at the change in his appearance. His features were sharp and worn, his hands like birds' claws, and a ragged growth of white beard and moustache covered his once well-shaven face; nor was old 'Lijah as clean as he might have been. His stockings were in holes and his clothes ragged and unmended. It was plain to be seen that he had lost all interest in himself, and that there was no woman to look after him. Jane entered, and quietly seated herself opposite to her father, and her tears fell fast as she took in the meaning of his forlorn and neglected aspect, and whispered to herself, "Oh, mother, mother!"

      When 'Lijah opened his eyes, there sat his daughter on the other side of the hearth, nursing a child on her lap. At first he did not know who it was, and looked vaguely puzzled until he heard her voice.

      "It's me, father; it's Jane come to live with you and make you comfortable."

      He did not seem startled, and received the announcement with the most matter-of-fact calm.

      "Whatever brings you back i' these parts? It's trouble, I doubt," and the old man shook a boding head.

      "Aye, father, trouble enough it is! My man's dead, and I 'aven't a penny in the world and no home but what you'll give me and this little lad to keep," and the child, now wide awake, sat up on her lap and looked about him.

      "What's that you say about a little lad? You've got a little lad to keep?" and there was a strange stir in the old man's heart as he uttered the words, for he had never had a son of his own, and it had been the great disappointment of his life.

      For reply Jane crossed the hearth with her child in her arms, and set him on the old man's shrunken knees as beautiful a boy of twelve months old as a mother ever doted on.

      "Yes, father, that's my little lad as I've got to keep; that's little Peter, your own little grandson; and he's rare good company a'ready for lonely folks. Many's the time he's dried my tears watching 'is pretty ways. 'Old 'im tight, father, for 'e isn't used to old folks, and p'r'aps 'e mayn't take to you."

      No need to tell 'Lijah to hold his little grandson carefully. The touch of the child's firm young flesh, the sight of his golden hair in lamb-like curls, his gentian-blue eyes and moist, innocent breath nourished his old bones, and he felt there was vital warmth in him yet. And when little Peter put up a dimpled hand to grasp his ragged beard, and made pretty baby jabbering, and laughed in his troubled old face, displaying four pearly-white teeth like grains of rice, the frost in the grandfather's heart, that had bound it since his wife died, melted, and he said:

      "Jane, if you 'aven't got a penny in the world, your man's left you rich enough wi' a little lad like this! You must bide wi' me — both of you."

      "Aye, father, so we will. But look you how that grey wire beard o' yourn is scratchin' little Peter's face! You'll 'ave to shave it off, and poor mother always thought so much o' your clean chin!"

      The ragged beard was duly taken off, and the old man began the trouble of shaving again, and renewed his acquaintance with soap and water, for the little lad's sake; and his daughter washed and mended his clothes, and 'Lijah looked once more himself, but old-very old.

      'Lijah's whole heart was garnered up in his little grandson, and as the boy grew older it was a pretty sight to see them in the fields together, the child bringing wild flowers to the old man to name, or a bird's egg or nest; but whatever it was he could tell him everything about it, and nothing short of that would content little Peter. For he had a healthy child's thirst for every kind of knowledge, so long as it was not what schoolmasters teach or what comes out of a book, and he was eager after all country lore and old-world word-of-mouth wisdom. It was wonderful how much the little lad learnt from his grandfather about four-footed creatures, from oxen to stoats and weasels, and he could have passed an examination with honours in the names, songs, and plumage of British birds.

      The two were inseparable companions, and Peter would rather play with his grandfather, whom he regarded as an overgrown child with bent back and stiff legs, than with any little boy of his own age.

      Jane Grove would stand on the doorstep and smile as she watched her father and his little grandson set out for a walk hand in hand, perfectly happy and content together. "They're more like a pair o' lovers, them two, than anything else! Father's like wrapped up in that lad, and don't think o' me exceptin' to eat the vittles I cook and set afore 'im; nor little Peter, 'e don't think o' me neither so long as 'e can 'ave 'is grandad! They're both of 'em civil to me, and that's about all they are, they're so took up with each other."

      When little Peter had stuck to his grandfather like his shadow for five years, he began to be aware that his beloved companion could not see very far, and was shaky on his legs, got tired before they were half across the common, had a habit of falling asleep in the midst of the most interesting conversation about rooks and water rats, and was growing deaf, so that he had to speak loud to make him hear. These things grieved little Peter, and as he could not see the necessity for them he asked his grandfather what he did them for.

      "Grandad," he said, as he walked slowly by his side, having hold of his hand, "grandad, why don't you run as quick as me?"

      The old man smiled delightedly at a question that seemed to him to display little Peter's immense intellectual powers.

      "It's seventy 'ears too late, my little lad, for grandfather to go running about like a little dog at a fair."

      "But, grandfather, you know a deal more than me; you'd ought to know how to run ever so fast, and climb the bank and gather blackberries same as me."

      "Aye, so I did when I was your age, but blackberries was bigger then than what they are now. They was worth climbing for seventy 'ears ago, I can tell you! But I'm an old man now, Peter," and 'Lijah looked down on the child's upturned face that was fresh and clear as a flower.

      Little Peter walked on a few paces in thoughtful silence. "But, grandfather, what makes you such an old, old man?" And 'Lijah laughed with delight at the question. Oh, Peter was a rare deep little chap, he'd get to the bottom of everything if he could.

      "It's nothing but Anna Dominoes as makes me such a' old, old man, and that's Latin for the 'ear of the Lord. It's Anna Dominoes, that's the matter wi' me, little Peter, and nothin' else," and the child stored up the mysterious words in his tenacious memory.

      Not long afterwards Old 'Lijah, who had grown neighbourly again now that he was happy, went one evening, accompanied by his grandson, to spend an hour with his old friend, Farmer Blewitt. The two old men were seated in arm-chairs at each side of the table, with a tobacco jar and cider mugs, and a small narrow box before them. Little Peter was lying on the hearth playing with a young spaniel puppy, in whose delightful society he was wholly absorbed, till he heard Farmer Blewitt say:

      "Let's have a game o' dominoes, 'Lijah; it's many a day since you and me played together."

      Little Peter sat up.

      "I don't mind if I do play a game," said his grandfather. Little Peter rose to his feet, pushed the frivolous and seductive puppy aside as being likely to interfere with serious business, and modestly, but firmly, approached the table where the old men were beginning their game. He laid his hand on his grandfather's arm, but he did not feel it at first, so he pressed harder.

      "Hallo! little chap, what's up?"

      "Don't touch none o' them dominoes, grandfather! Don't touch 'em," said little Peter urgently.

      "Whatever's to do with you, Peter? You're onreasonable!" said 'Lijah, with as near an approach to asperity as was possible towards his little grandson.

      But Peter was not to be daunted. "Grandfather, don't you remember that day when I asked what made you such an old, old man, you said it was Anna Dominoes as did it all? Don't touch 'em, grandfather, don't touch one of 'em!" and Peter's young face was full of anxiety.

      Old 'Lijah and Farmer Blewitt laughed till they cried, while 'Lijah told him what he had said to the little chap in the lane about his age; "for he's that peart, I said Anna Dominoes was the matter wi' me, speaking Latin, and Latin or Greek he'll get to the reason o' things! No, little Peter, these ain't the kind o' dominoes that's made an old, old man o' your grandad; it was the 'ear of the Lord I was speaking on, and when you go to school you'll learn all about un!"

      Peter was now an active little slip of seven years of age, never still except when he was sleeping, and not knowing what it was to be tired. He had grown used to his grandfather's increasing infirmities by now, but they irked his restless young body and spirit, and on their walks together, when the old man sat down by the way weary and breathless, little Peter beguiled the time running to and fro as fast as he could, to let off his pent-up energy, after crawling at a snail's pace by old 'Lijah's side.

      A few weeks later and little Peter again returned with a child's persistence to the puzzling subject of his grandfather's decaying strength.

      "Grandfather, if it isn't the dominoes that does it, do tell me what it is that makes you such an old, old man!"

      Old 'Lijah did not laugh at the boy's question now. He felt his life feeble within him, and he did not know what to say in reply that could be intelligible to a child. They were alone in the kitchen, and no sound was heard but the loud ticking of the tall clock, the audible footstep of time. The old man looked into the child's fresh young face as he stood between his knees waiting for an answer, and he smiled feebly, and pressed the firm round cheek with his shaking hand, but he said nothing.

      "But what is it, grandfather, that makes you such an old, very old man?"

      Then 'Lijah looked up at the tall clock whose loud tick tack penetrated his dull hearing, and it seemed to him as though he had heard it for eighty years, counting out aloud the minutes, hours, days, and years of his whole life.

      "It's the ticking of the clock, my little lad, the ticking of the clock, that makes grandfather such an old, old man;' and Peter was satisfied with the reply, and set his young brains to work to find out how he could baffle the evil influence of the clock.

      Now the tall case clock was a very big person for a small boy to tackle. He stood six feet without his shoes, with a huge round face behind a pane of glass, and a long front door opening straight into his vitals, and Peter had peeped in on winding-up days, and seen two heavy weights hanging, and the shining brass pendulum swinging to and fro, whose everlasting tick tack had made an old man of his grandfather. Well, never mind, wait till some time when mother was out of the house, and grandfather asleep in the big arm-chair, as he was nearly all day long now, and little Peter knew what he would do!

      Not many days afterwards everything happened as Peter wished, and he looked out of the window to make sure that his mother was at a safe distance at the top of the garden, and there she was, standing with her back to the house, busy pegging clothes on the line, so that no danger need be feared from that quarter. Indoors, too, all was equally favourable to the carrying out of little Peter's deep-laid scheme. Grandfather really was older than ever to-day. He had not stirred from the big chair since he came down in the morning, and when he was spoken to he said nothing, he only smiled and fell into a doze. He was fast asleep now, and little Peter's heart beat with joy to think what a fine surprise he was preparing for his grandfather. What would the old man think when he felt the stiffness and trembling going out of his legs and back, his eyes growing clear and bright again, and his deafness leaving him? all which would be sure to happen if the clock would only stop ticking.

      Grandfather was so fast asleep, with his head leaning forward on his breast, that little Peter was not afraid of waking him. He summoned all his courage to his aid and stepped cautiously up to the great clock, with its menacing tick tack, unlocked its front door, opened it wide, and peeped into the resonant cavern in its inside, with the heavy iron weights hanging and the bright brass pendulum swaying to and fro with its everlasting tick tack, tick tack. Then, without giving himself time to take fright at his own daring, he seized hold of the swinging pendulum and, after a brief struggle, held it in his hand, a silent, motionless thing.

      Then little Peter loosed his hold, and glanced over his shoulder at the old man, but he was still quietly sleeping. He cautiously closed the door of the tall clock towering above him in silence, and seated himself on a stool at his grandfather's feet, waiting to tell him when he awoke how he had stopped the ticking of the clock that made him such an old, old man.

      There his mother found him sitting when she returned from the garden, and neither daughter nor grandson could rouse the old man from the sleep that knows no waking. When the pendulum was set swinging once more, the clock began to tick again as though nothing had happened, and it ticked out the minutes till they grew into years, and little Peter became big Peter, and then he understood what his grandfather had meant.