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.