Miss Lilly and Ferdy spent a quiet hour or two together after Christine and her mother had set off. Then, as it was really a half-holiday, and Miss Lilly usually went home immediately after luncheon on half-holidays, she said good-bye to Ferdy, after seeing him comfortably settled and Flowers within hail, and started on her own way home.

She was anxious to have a talk with her grandfather and ask his advice as to the best way of helping the little boy and his mother, and keeping off the dangers to both which she saw in the future.

It was a lovely day—quite a summer day now—for it was some way on in June, and this year the weather had been remarkably beautiful—never before quite so beautiful since she had come to live in the neighbourhood, thought the young girl to herself, and she sighed a little as she pictured in her own mind what happy days she and her two little pupils might have had in the woods and fields round about Evercombe.

"Poor Ferdy," she thought, "I wonder if he really ever will get well again. That is, in a way, the hardest part of it all—the not knowing. It makes it so difficult to judge how to treat him in so many little ways."

She was not very far from her own home by this time, and looking up along the sunny road, she saw coming towards her a familiar figure.

"I do believe it is Jesse Piggot," she said to herself. "How curious, just when I'd been thinking about him the last day or two!"

Jesse stopped as he came up to her, and it seemed to Miss Lilly that his face grew a little red, though bashfulness was certainly not one of Jesse's weak points.

"Why, Jesse!" she exclaimed, "so you've got back again. How did you get on while you were away?"

Jesse's answer to this question was rather indistinct. He murmured something that sounded like "All right, thank you, miss," but added almost immediately in a brighter tone, "How is Master Ferdy, please?"

"Pretty well," Miss Lilly replied; "that is to say, he doesn't suffer now, and we do all we can to cheer him up."

Jesse's face grew concerned and half puzzled.

"Ain't he all right again by this time?" he asked. "I thought he'd have been running about same as before, and a-riding on his new pony."

Miss Lilly shook her head rather sadly.

"Oh no," she said, "there's no chance of anything like that for a long time"—"if ever," she added to herself. "The kind of accident that happened to Master Ferdy," she went on, "is almost the worst of any to cure—worse than a broken leg, or a broken head even."

Jesse said nothing for a moment or two, but something in his manner showed the young lady that his silence did not come from indifference. He had something in his hand, a stick of some kind, and as Miss Lilly's eyes fell on it, she saw that he had been whittling it with a rough pocket-knife.

"What is that, Jesse?" she said. "Are you making something?"

The boy's face grew distinctly redder now.

"'Tis nothing, miss," he said, looking very ashamed, "only a bit o' nonsense as I thought'd make Master Ferdy laugh. I've done 'em before from one of the old squeakers up at the farm."

And he half-reluctantly allowed Miss Lilly to take out of his hand a small stick, the top of which he had chipped into a rough, but unmistakable likeness to a pig's head.

Miss Lilly almost started. It seemed such a curious coincidence that just as she was going to consult her grandfather about some new interest and occupation for Ferdy, and just, too, as the idea of her little pupil's being of use to this poor waif and stray of a boy had been put into her mind by Ferdy himself, Jesse should turn up again, and in the new character of a possible art! For though not an artist of any kind herself, she had quick perceptions and a good eye, and in the queer, grotesque carving that the boy held in his hand she felt almost sure that she detected signs of something—well, of talent, however uncultivated, to say the least.

Jesse did not understand her start of surprise and the moment's silence that followed it. He thought she was shocked, and he grew still redder as he hastily tried to hide the poor piggy in his hand.

"I didn't think as any one 'ud see it till I met Master Ferdy hisself some time; he's partial to pigs, is Master Ferdy, though no one can say as they're pretty. But I thought it'd make him laugh."

"My dear boy," exclaimed the young girl eagerly, "don't hide away the stick. You don't understand. I am very pleased with your pig—very pleased indeed. Have you done other things like it? I should like to—" but then she stopped for a moment. She must not say anything to put it into Jesse's scatter-brained head that he was a genius, and might make his fortune by wood-carving. Of all things, as she knew by what she had heard of him, it was important that he should learn to stick to his work and work hard. So she went on quietly, "I am sure Master Ferdy will like the pig very much, and he will think it very kind of you to have thought of pleasing him. Let me look at it again," and she took it out of Jesse's rather unwilling hands.

"It is not quite finished yet, I see," she said, "but I think it is going to be a very nice, comical pig."

And, indeed, the grotesque expression of the ears and snout—of the whole, indeed—was excellent. You could scarcely help smiling when you looked at it.

Jesse's red face grew brighter.

"Oh no, miss," he said, "it bain't finished. I'm going to black the eyes a bit—just a touch, you know, with a pencil. And there's a lot more to do to the jowl. I'm going to have a good look at old Jerry—that's the oldest porker at the farm—when he's havin' his supper to-night; you can see his side face beautiful then," and Jesse's eyes twinkled with fun.

"Oh, then you are back at the farm—at Mr. Meare's?" said Miss Lilly. "I am glad of that."

"I'm not to say reg'lar there," said Jesse, "only half on—for odd jobs so to say. I've been a message to the smithy at Bollins just now," and certainly, to judge by the leisurely way in which he had been sauntering along when Ferdy's governess first caught sight of him, his "odd jobs" did not seem to be of a very pressing description.

"That's a pity," said the lady.

"Farmer says as he'll take me on reg'lar after a bit," added Jesse.

"And where are you living, then?" inquired Miss Lilly.

"They let me sleep in the barn," said Jesse. "And Sundays I goes to my folk at Draymoor, though I'd just as lief stop away. Cousin Tom and I don't hit it off, and it's worser when he's sober. Lord, miss, he did hide me when he was away on that navvy job!" and Jesse gave a queer sort of grin.

Miss Lilly shuddered.

"And what do you do in the evenings?" she asked.

Jesse looked uncomfortable.

"Loaf about a bit," he said vaguely.

"That isn't a very good way of spending time," she said.

Jesse screwed up his lips as if he were going to whistle, but a sudden remembrance of the respect due to the young lady stopped him.

"What's I to do else, miss?" he said.

"Well, you've something to do to-night, any way," she replied. "If you can finish the pig's head, I am sure Master Ferdy will be delighted to have it. I won't tell him about it," as she detected a slight look of disappointment on Jesse's face, "oh no, it must be a surprise. But if you call at the Watch House the first time you are passing after it is ready, I will see if I can get leave for you to see him yourself for a few minutes. The afternoon would be the best time, I think."

The boy's face beamed.

"Thank you, miss; thank you kindly," he said. "I'll see if I can't get it done to-night."

And then the two parted with a friendly farewell on each side.

Miss Lilly had a good deal to think of as she finished her walk home. She felt quite excited at the discovery she had made, and eager to tell her grandfather about it. And she was all the more pleased to see him standing at the gate watching for her as she came within sight, for Dr. Lilly had something to tell her on his part, too.

"You are late, my dear," he said, "late, that is to say, for a Wednesday."

"Yes, gran," she replied, "I had to stay an hour or so with poor Ferdy, as Mrs. Ross and Christine were going out early."

"Then there is nothing wrong with him," said the old doctor. "I get quite nervous about the poor little chap myself. But that was not why I was coming to meet you, Eva; it was to tell you of an invitation I have from my old friend, Mr. Linham, to spend two or three weeks with him travelling in Cornwall. I should much like to go, I don't deny, except for leaving you alone, and I must decide at once, as he wants to know."

"Of course you must go, dear gran," replied the girl. "I don't mind being alone in the least. I daresay Mrs. Ross would be glad to have me more with them, especially if—oh grandfather, I have a lot to talk to you about!"

And then she told him all she had been thinking about Ferdy, and the curious coincidence of meeting Jesse Piggot, and the discovery of his unsuspected talent for wood-carving.

Dr. Lilly listened with great interest. He was pleased with Eva's good sense in not praising the old porker's head too much, and he quite agreed with her that it would be well worth while to encourage little Ferdy's wish to try his own skill in the same direction.

"I believe I know the very man to give him a little help to start with," he said. "He is a young fellow who carves for Ball and Guild at Whittingham. I attended him once in a bad illness. Now he is getting on well, though he is not a genius. But he would be able to help with the technical part of the work—the right wood to use, the proper tools, and so on. If Mr. Ross approves, I will write to this man—Brock is his name—and ask him to come over to talk about it. The only difficulty is that I fear he is never free except in the evenings."

"I don't think that would matter," said Miss Lilly,—"not in summer time. Ferdy does not go to bed till half-past eight or nine. And if he gets on well with his carving, grandfather,—and I do believe he will; you know I have always thought there was something uncommon about Ferdy,—he will be able to help Jesse. Who knows what may come of it? It may be the saving of Jesse."

Her pleasant face grew quite rosy with excitement. It might be such a good thing in so many ways—something to take the little invalid's thoughts off himself and to convince his too anxious mother that feeling himself able to be of use to others would be by far the surest way of securing Ferdy's own happiness in the uncertain and perhaps very trying life before him. And her grandfather quite sympathised in all she felt.

So that evening two letters were sent off from the pretty cottage at Bollins, one to Mr. Linham, accepting his invitation to Cornwall, and one to Mr. Ross, asking him to stop a moment on his drive past the old doctor's house the next morning to have a little talk about Ferdy.

"He is sure to do so, and sure too to be pleased with anything you think would be good for Ferdy," said Eva to her grandfather.

And this was quite true, for though Dr. Lilly no longer looked after ill people, his opinion was most highly thought of, and by no one more than by Mr. Ross, who had known him as long as he could remember knowing any one.

After Miss Lilly left him that afternoon, Ferdy, contrary to his custom, fell asleep and had a good long nap, only awaking when the carriage bringing his mother and Chrissie back from their expedition drove up to the door.

Mrs. Ross's anxious face grew brighter when she saw how fresh and well the boy was looking. She had been afraid lest the increasing heat of the weather would try Ferdy's strength too much, especially as the doctors would not yet allow him to be carried out of doors. But here again the oriel window proved of the greatest use: it could always be open at one side or the other, according to the time of day, so that it was easy to catch whatever breeze was going for Ferdy's benefit, and yet to shade him from the sun. He certainly did not look at all fagged or exhausted this afternoon, though it had been rather a hot day for June.

Christine followed her mother into the room, her arms filled with parcels, her eyes bright with pleasure.

"We've got such a beautiful slate for you, Ferdy," she said, "and a book of animal pictures—outlines—that will be quite easy to copy on a slate, and the man at the shop said it was a very good thing to study them for any one who wanted to try wood-carving."

"Oh, how nice!" said Ferdy eagerly. "Do let me see, Chrissie! And what are those other parcels you've got?"

"Two are from the German confectioner's at Freston—cakes for tea—that nice kind, you know—the fancy curly shape, like the ones in the 'Struwelpeter' pictures."

Ferdy's face expressed great satisfaction.

"We must have a regular good tea," he said; "those cakes are meant to be eaten while they're quite fresh. And what's the other parcel, Chrissie?"

"Oh, it's two little ducky cushions," his sister replied, "quite little tiny ones of eider-down. They are to put under your elbows when you're sitting up, or at the back of your neck, or into any little odd corner where the big ones don't fit in. You know you've often wished for a little cushion, and when you go out into the garden or for a drive you'll need them still more, mamma says."

All the time she had been talking, Christine had been undoing her parcels, Mrs. Ross helping her to lay out their contents.

"Thank you so very much, mamma," said Ferdy, "everything's beautiful. Which way did you drive to Freston?"

"We went one way and came back the other," said Mrs. Ross,—"by the road that passes near Draymoor, you know. Dear me, even on a fine summer's day that place looks grim and wretched! And there seems always to be idle boys about, even early in the afternoon."

"Miss Lilly says there's often a lot that can't get work to do," said Ferdy. "It's this way—sometimes they're very, very busy, and sometimes there's not enough to do, and that's how they get into mischief, I suppose," he added, with the air of a small Solomon.

"It seems a pity that no one can take a real interest in the place," said his mother; "but here comes tea, Ferdy. I am sure we shall all be glad of it. Chrissie, you can arrange the cakes while I pour out tea."

They seemed a happy little party that afternoon—happier than Ferdy's mother, at least, would have believed it possible they could be, had she, three months or so before, foreseen the sad trouble that was to befall her darling.

"I wonder how soon I shall be able to go for a drive," said Ferdy. "Will you ask the big doctor the next time he comes, mamma? I should like to see Draymoor again. I've never forgotten that day I went there with papa. And now I understand about it so much better. Miss Lilly says it isn't that the people are very poor—they earn a lot of money when they are at work, but then they spend it all instead of spreading it over the times they haven't work. Isn't it a pity they can't be taught something else to do for the idle times, to keep them from quarrelling with each other and being unkind to their wives and children?"

Mrs. Ross looked at Ferdy with surprise and some misgiving. It was doubtless Miss Lilly who had talked to him about the Draymoor people. Was it quite wise of her to do so? Ferdy was so sensitive already, and his illness seemed to have made him even more "old-fashioned." To hear him talk as he was doing just now, one could easily have believed him twice his real age. But a second glance at his face made her feel easy again. He was speaking in a tone of quiet interest, but not in any nervous or excited way.

"Yes," she replied, "there is plenty to be done to improve Draymoor, and at present no one seems to take any special charge of it. If your father was less busy and richer, I know he would like to try to do something for the people there."

"Miss Lilly says if there was any one to look after the boys it would be such a good thing," said Ferdy. "I hope Jesse Piggot won't go back there to live."

Then they went on to talk of other things. Ferdy greatly approved of the German cakes, and his mother's spirits rose higher as she saw him eating them with a good appetite and making little jokes with his sister.

The rest of the evening passed happily. Ferdy amused himself for some time by "trying" his new slate. He drew two or three animals without any model, and was delighted to find that Chrissie recognised them all, and that they did not compare very badly with the outlines she had brought him.

"I am tired now," he said as he put down his pencil with a little sigh, but a sigh of contentment as much as of weariness, "but I know what I'll do to-morrow, Chrissie. I'll study one animal's head, or perhaps a bird. If those old swallows would but settle for a bit on the window-sill, or even on one of the branches close by, I'm sure I could do them. What a pity it is they can't understand what we want, for I always feel as if they knew all about us."

"That's because of my dream," said Christine importantly. "But I must go now, Ferdy dear; Flowers has called me two or three times to change my frock."

So Ferdy lay on his couch, one end of which was drawn into the window, watching the sweet summer sunset and the gentle "good-night" stealing over the world. There were not many passers-by at that hour. The school children had long ago gone home; the little toddlers among them must already be in bed and asleep. Now and then a late labourer came slowly along with lagging steps, or one of the village dogs, in search of a stray cat perhaps, pricked up his ears when Ferdy tapped on the window-pane. But gradually all grew very still, even the birds ceasing to twitter and cheep as they settled themselves for the night. And Ferdy himself felt ready to follow the general example, when suddenly his attention was caught by a figure that came down the lane from the farm and stood for a moment or two at the end of the drive where the gate had been left open.

Ferdy almost jumped as he saw it.

"Flowers," he exclaimed, as at that moment the maid came into the room followed by Thomas to carry him up to bed. "Flowers—Thomas, do look! Isn't that Jesse Piggot standing at the gate? He must have come back again."

"I don't know, I'm sure, Master Ferdy," said Flowers, who did not feel any particular interest in Jesse Piggot.

But Thomas was more good-natured. He peered out into the dusk.

"It looks like him, Master Ferdy," he said, "but I don't know that he'll get much of a welcome even if he has come back. Such a lad for mischief never was," for Thomas had had some experience of Jesse once or twice when the boy had been called into the Watch House for an odd job.

"Never mind about that," said Ferdy, "I shall be glad to see him again. Be sure you find out in the morning, Thomas, if it is him."