Chapter XIV: Conclusion

"YOU'LL find me in the garden when you've finished your lessons," said Kitty, one evening, a few weeks later, as she poked her fair head around the dining-room door to address her brother, who was seated at the table, at work on his French translation. "I want to consult you about something," she added impressively.

"All right," Bob answered. "I'll be with you before long."

Kitty went into the garden, and took up her position on a seat under the apple tree. There, in a very few minutes, Bob joined her.

"Well?" he said interrogatively.

"Tim has gone out with his uncle," Kitty informed him. "I saw them start together; so I thought this would be a good opportunity to consult you about something—Tim not being about, you know."

"The 'something' has to do with Shuttleworth, then?" questioned Bob.

Kitty nodded. "He'll be going home soon now," she observed. "Dear me, it's quite remarkable we should both of us be so friendly with him after—"

"Not remarkable at all," her brother broke in, rather impatiently. "He's a jolly nice fellow—he's proved it. Speak out! What is it you want to consult me about?"

"Well, I've been thinking that before Tim leaves we ought to give him a present," Kitty said eagerly. "You know, he really did save Snip's life. Father says that the poor little thing would certainly have drowned if Tim hadn't gone to him and freed him from the leash."

"And you think he should have a testimonial as a reward?" suggested Bob, with a teasing smile.

"I think nothing of the kind," the little girl answered, flushing. "You are pretending to misunderstand me. I meant this—that we may never see Tim again, and I should like to give him a present for a keepsake, something that will put him in mind of us when he looks at it."

"Well, I don't think that's a bad idea," Bob said, now speaking seriously. "Let me consider. What could we give him? How much money have you by you?"

"One shilling and two-pence, but I shall be having my sixpence pocket-money on Saturday, of course."

"So you'll be good for one shilling and eight-pence. If I put a couple of shillings to that, what could we buy? I know! A pocket-knife! We could get a beauty, with three blades, the best that's made, for three shillings and sixpence or four shillings."

"Oh, Bob, that would be the very thing! Tim has only an old bone-handled pocket-knife with one blade, and that blade is broken! When shall we get it! The new one, I mean? On Saturday?"

"Yes, if you like."

"And how shall we give it to him? I mean, will you, or shall I? You are the elder, but it was my idea that we should make him a present. Still, if you'd like to give it to him—" Kitty broke off, and looked at her brother inquiringly.

"We can draw lots to decide that point," he answered, "then everything will be fair."

Thus it came to pass that the following Saturday, shortly before one o'clock, when Tim spoke to Kitty over the garden wall, and inquired how she and Bob were going to spend the afternoon, she replied, with an air of reserve, which puzzled him and rather aroused his curiosity, that they were going into the town on private business.

"But we shall not be away very long," she added. "And I daresay we shall see you as soon as we get back."

"I don't know about that," he answered, rather piqued because the little girl seemed afraid that he might suggest accompanying her and her brother. "I may not be at home then."

After the mid-day meal Tim had half a mind to go for a walk in the country by himself, for his uncle betook himself as usual to his study. But, as Kitty had spoken of seeing him on her return from the town, he decided to remain at home, write to his mother, and afterwards stroll out into the garden, so that the young folks next door could hail him if they wanted him. Accordingly, he settled himself in the dining-room, and had barely finished his letter, when, to his great amazement, Deborah opened the door, and announced:

"Miss and Master Glanville!"

"Kitty! Bob!" he exclaimed, rising from his seat at the table, and looking quickly from one to the other of his visitors. "Why didn't you call to me from the garden as you usually do? I should have heard you."

"If you're writing to your people perhaps you don't want to be disturbed, and we'd better not stay?" suggested Bob. "Hurry up, Kitty!" he whispered to his sister.

"Oh, do stay!" cried Tim. "Sit down, won't you? Here, Kitty, have this easy chair?"

Kitty sank into the chair indicated, but not before she had put her hand in her pocket, and drawn therefrom a small package. It had fallen to her lot to present the pocket-knife.

"I daresay you thought it was rather odd of me not to tell you where Bob and I were going this afternoon," she commenced, addressing Tim. "Now, didn't you?"

"Well, yes, I did," he admitted, candidly. "Of course, I saw you didn't want me to go with you—"

"That was just it," Kitty broke in. "We didn't want you to go with us because we were thinking of buying you a present. We've bought it! Bob chose it! It's a pocket-knife, and, oh, I do hope you'll like it! There was one with a tortoiseshell handle I rather fancied, but Bob said he was sure you'd prefer this one—if not, the man in the shop won't mind changing it. This one has three blades, all of the very best steel, they cut like lances, and it has a buck-horn handle. Oh, look at it, do!" She thrust the little package into Tim's hands as she spoke.

Tim, who had become quite red in his surprise, opened the package with fingers which trembled with eagerness, and a very handsome pocket-knife was revealed to view.

"You have bought this for me?" he cried, glancing first at Kitty, who was watching him anxiously, trying to read from the expression of his countenance if he approved of her brother's choice, and then at Bob, who nodded assent. "Oh, how kind—how very, very kind of you both! Oh, thank you—thank you! Oh, it's a grand knife! Three blades! Oh, I say, I shall never be able to thank you half enough for this!" His eyes were sparkling with delight.

"Do you prefer it to one with a tortoiseshell handle?" questioned Kitty.

"Of course he does!" Bob exclaimed, without giving Tim time to answer for himself, "Any boy would! That tortoiseshell handled knife wasn't half as strong as this one; it was nice enough in its way, but it was only fit for a girl."

"You couldn't have given me one I should have liked better than this," Tim said earnestly, "I'm quite sure of that."

Kitty was satisfied. "That's all right then!" she said.

"Mother told us to ask you to tea with us, Shuttleworth," remarked Bob, a few minutes later, after Tim had tried all three blades of his new pocket-knife on a lead pencil. "Will you come?"

"Oh, thank you, I should like to—you know that," Tim replied. "Just wait whilst I put away my writing things and tell uncle where I'm going. I say, whatever made you think of giving me a present?"

"It was Kitty who thought of it," said Bob. "And when she mentioned it to me, I considered it a very good idea and wondered I hadn't thought of it myself. We're awfully pleased you like the knife—it's a keepsake, you know—something for you to remember us by."

Tim was much touched—so touched, indeed, that he could find no words to answer, but his face was eloquent of all the feelings in his warm Irish heart.

"We shall be very sorry when you're gone," said Kitty, looking at him with friendly blue eyes. "We shall miss you, oh, ever so much! You'll think of us all, and of Snip—oh, I shall never forget that you saved Snip's life! But, come, I'm sure it's near tea-time. I'm getting so hungry!"

The three young people were very happy and merry together during the hour or so which followed. After tea they repaired to the garden, and on the trunk of the big apple tree Tim carved Kitty's initials, and then Bob's, and then his own, with the big blade of his new treasure.

"There!" he cried, as he surveyed his finished handiwork, "How's that!"

"Beautifully done!" answered Kitty, admiringly.

"Ah," said Tim, "I've a good tool—I never before handled such a splendid knife." He shut it with a snap, and returned it to his pocket.

"Glad it suits you, old fellow!" said Bob, whilst Kitty looked very gratified. "Yes, the initials look all right—they're very well done indeed."

* * * * *

Shortly before midsummer, Tim's father arrived at B—, and, after his fortnight's holiday, returned to Dublin, taking his son with him. Tim had been quite low-spirited at parting with his friends next door although he had been going home; he had been sorry to say good-bye to his uncle, too. But, as it happened, he was not to be absent from B— long; for his uncle had offered to take him to live with him and to send him to the B— Grammar School. And as he was to go to his own people for the Christmas and the summer holidays, he was simply delighted with this arrangement. So the end of September found him once more a resident beneath his uncle's roof; and at the beginning of the autumn term he was entered as a pupil at B— Grammar School, where he was introduced to the boys by Bob Glanville as "my friend, Shuttleworth."

Kitty and Bob scarcely ever think of the old days now when they were so prejudiced against Tim Shuttleworth, and there is no one for whom Kitty has a greater liking and regard than the boy whom she once looked upon as her enemy.

THE END.

HEADLEY BROTHERS, 18, DEVONSHIRE STREET, E. C. 2; AND ASHFORD, KENT.