“Old Principle, do you think we ought to make opportunities?” questioned Dudley, presently; “Roy thinks we ought, and I did make one the other day, but it didn’t turn out well.”

“Ay, Master Roy is always for making,” said the old man with a smile; “he will try and cram his life with what will come fast enough naturally, if he only waits.”

“But will it?” questioned Roy, flushing up with eagerness; “do you think it will?  I’m longing to do something big and grand and good; I mayn’t live to grow up you know, and I’m sure we’re meant to do something when we’re boys.”

“We’re trying to do good to all men as we have opportunity,” said Dudley, gravely.

“Ay, stick to that, boys, and you’ll succeed.  There’s none too small to be true philanthropists.”

“What is a philanthropist?” asked Roy.

“A man who benefits his fellow creatures.  ’Tis a good principle to keep in mind.”

“But it’s difficult for boys to do grown-up people good.  They always do boys good.”

“Now look here, Master Roy.  I’ve lived and learned where you haven’t, and I try and pass my principles on to you.  That’s how I do you good.  You come to me and take what I give you and seeing you act out the advice I offers you does me good.  You do me good too, every time you comes to see me; it’s cheery to hear and see you.”

“But that’s very tame for us,” said Roy, a little scornfully.

“Oh, well, if your own likes must come into the question, it’s a different story!  I didn’t know it mattered about our feelings as long as the good is done!  ’Tis a bad principle to try to please others only when it pleases ourselves.”

Roy looked a little ashamed of himself.  He said no more on the subject, and shortly after he and Dudley ran home to tea.

They were very disappointed when their aunt refused to let them go out again that evening.

“It is too damp a night for Jonathan to be wandering through wet grass and bog.  You can go, David, if you like, but he must wait for another opportunity.”

“I shan’t go without Roy,” said Dudley, sturdily.

“We’ll come and make a cave in the attic,” suggested Roy, trying to be cheerful.

And for the rest of that evening they were absorbed in making a great dust and racket amongst lumber boxes far away from their grandmother’s hearing.

IV

AN AWKWARD VISIT

“And how do you know a river has been here?”

“By the soil and by the relics I have found.  Look at this fossil.  Do you see the outline of the fish?  Fish don’t live on dry ground.”

“There might have been a fishman passing by who dropped one out of his cart.”

Old Principle laughed at Dudley’s sceptical notion, and went on shovelling out earth with great alacrity.  It was Saturday afternoon:  old Principle had shut up his shop and taken the boys up to the hills surrounding the little village, where in a ravine between two precipitous crags, in the midst of a green bower of ferns and moss, he was hard at work excavating an old cave that had been buried for many years out of sight.