’Then I don’t know what you will say to me when you hear I want to rob you further,’ said Mr. Villiers.

‘Rob me further?’ repeated my grandfather.

‘Yes,’ said Mr. Villiers, putting his hand on my shoulder.  ’I want to take this grandson of yours away too.  It seems to me a great pity that such a fine lad should waste his days shut up on this little island.  Let him come with me, and I will send him to a really good school for three or four years, and then I will get him some good clerkship, or something of that kind, and put him in the way of making his way in the world.  Now then, my friend, will you and his father spare him?’

‘Well,’ said my grandfather, ’I don’t know what to say to you, sir; it’s very good of you—­very good, indeed it is, and it would be a fine thing for Alick, it would indeed; but I always thought he would take my place here when I was dead.’

‘Yes,’ said my father; ’but, you see, I shall be here to do that, father; and if Mr. Villiers is so very kind as to take Alick, I’m sure we ought only to be too glad for him to have such a friend.’

’You’re right, David; yes, your right.  We mustn’t be selfish, sir; and you’d let him come and see us sometimes, wouldn’t you?’

‘Oh, to be sure,’ said Mr. Villiers; ’he can come and spend his holidays here, and give you fine histories of his school life.  Now, Alick, what say you?  There’s a capital school in the town where we are going to live, so you would be near us and you could come to see us on holiday afternoons, and see whether this little woman remembers all you have taught her.  What say you?’

I was very pleased indeed, and very thankful for his kindness, and my father and grandfather said they would never be able to repay him.

‘Repay me!’ said Mr. Villiers.  ’Why, my friends, it’s I who can never repay you. Just think, for one moment, of what you have given me’—­and he put his arm round his little girl’s neck.’  So we may consider that matter settled.  And now, when can Alick come?’

My grandfather begged for another month, and Mr. Villiers said that would do very well, as in that time the school would reopen after the holidays.  And so it came to pass, that when I said good-bye to little Timpey that afternoon, it was with the hope of soon seeing her again.

Her father called her Lucy, which I found was her real name.  Timpey was a pet name, which had been given her as a baby.  But though Lucy was certainly a prettier name, still I felt I should always think of her as Timpey—­my little Timpey.

I shall never forget my feelings that month.  A strange new life was opening out before me, and I felt quite bewildered by the prospect.

My grandfather, and father, and I sat over the watchroom fire, night after night, talking over my future; and day after day I wandered over our dear little island, wondering how I should feel when I said good-bye to it, and went into the great world beyond.