Of course, there were worse names than Ben Holt.

It was surely better than Eygji Watts, whose sanguine parents were said to have named him with the first five letters they drew from a hat containing the alphabet; Ben Holt was assuredly better than Eygji, even had this not been rendered into "Hedge-hog" by careless companions.

His last confusion of ideas was a wondering if Bernal Linford was as good a name as Ben Holt, and why he could not remember having chosen it in preference to a goldpiece.

Back of this, in his fading consciousness was the high-coloured image of a candy cane, too splendid for earth.
Then, far in the night, as it might have seemed to the little boy, came the step of slippered feet.

This time Clytie, satisfying herself that both boys slept, set down her candle and went softly out, leaving the door open.