“Only the fear o’ God,” said the boy, after a moment of hesitation.

“Well, on me word, I am full sorry,” said the tinker.  “Though mind ye, boy, fear is an excellent good thing, an’ has done a work in the world.  But, hear me, a man had two horses the same age, size, shape, an’ colour, an’ one went for fear o’ the whip, an’ the other went as well without a whip in the wagon.  Now, tell me, which was the better horse?”

“The one that needed no whip.”

“Very well!” said the old man, with emphasis.  “A man had two sons, an’ one obeyed him for fear o’ the whip, an’ the other, because he loved his father, an’ could not bear to grieve him.  Tell me again, boy, which was the better son?”

“The one that loved him,” said the boy.

“Very well! very well!” said the old man, loudly.  “A man had two neighbours, an’ one stole not his sheep for fear o’ the law, an’ the other, sor, he stole them not, because he loved his neighbour.  Now which was the better man?”

“The man that loved him.”

“Very well! very well! and again very well!” said the tinker, louder than before.  “There were two kings, an’ one was feared, an’ the other, he was beloved; which was the better king?”

“The one that was beloved.”

“Very well! and three times again very well!” said the old man, warmly.  “An’ the good God is he not greater an’ more to be loved than all kings?  Fear, boy, that is the whip o’ destiny driving the dumb herd.  To all that fear I say ’tis well, have fear, but pray that love may conquer it.  To all that love I say, fear only lest ye lose the great treasure.  Love is the best thing, an’ with too much fear it sickens.  Always keep it with thee—­a little is a goodly property an’ its revenoo is happiness.  Therefore, be happy, boy—­try ever to be happy.”

There was a moment of silence broken by the sound of a church bell.

“To thy prayers,” said the clock tinker, rising, “an’ I’ll to mine.  Dine with me at five, good youth, an’ all me retinoo—­maids, warders, grooms, attendants—­shall be at thy service.”

“I’ll be glad to come,” said the boy, smiling at his odd host.

“An’ see thou hast hunger.”

“Good morning, Mr. ——­ ?” the boy hesitated.

“Darrel—­Roderick Darrel—­” said the old man, “that’s me name, sor, an’ ye’ll find me here at the Sign o’ the Dial.”

A wind came shrieking over the hills, and long before evening the little town lay dusky in a scud of snow mist.  The old stairs were quivering in the storm as Trove climbed them.

“Welcome, good youth,” said the clock tinker, shaking the boy’s hand as he came in.  “Ho there! me servitors.  Let the feast be spread,” he called in a loud voice, stepping quickly to the stove that held an upper deck of wood, whereon were dishes.  “Right Hand bring the meat an’ Left Hand the potatoes an’ Quick Foot give us thy help here.”