“I have something in my pocket which puts me in mind of a piece of news which I received the other day, since my return. First let me give you what I have in my pocket,”—and Mary pulled out the pencil-case sent to Joey by Emma Phillips. “There you know already who that is from.”
“Yes, and I shall value it very much, for she was a dear, kind little creature; and when I was very, very miserable, she comforted me.”
“Well, Joey, Miss Phillips requested me to write when I came back, as she wished to hear that I had arrived safe at the Hall. It was very kind of her, and I did so, of course. Since that I have received a letter from her, stating that her grandmother is dead, and that her mother is going to quit Gravesend for Portsmouth, to reside with her brother, who is now a widower.”
“I will go to Portsmouth,” replied our hero.
“I was thinking that, as her brother is a navy agent, and Mrs Phillips is interested about you, you could not do better. If anything turns up, then you will have good advice, and your money is not so likely to be thrown away. I think, therefore, you had better go to Portsmouth, and try your fortune.”
“I am very glad you have mentioned this, Mary, for, till now, one place was as indifferent to me as another; but now it is otherwise, and to Portsmouth I will certainly go.”
Our hero remained two or three days longer at the village, during which time Mary was with him every evening, and once she obtained leave to go to the banker’s about her money. She then turned over to Joey’s account the sum due to him, and arrangements were made with the bank so that Joey could draw his capital out whenever he pleased.
After which our hero took leave of Mary, promising to correspond more freely than before; and once more putting the strap of his knife-grinder’s wheel over his shoulders, he set off on his journey to Portsmouth.
Joey had not gained two miles from the village when he asked himself the question, “What shall I do with my grindstone?” He did not like to leave it on the road; he did not know to whom he could give it away. He rolled it on for about six miles farther, and then, quite tired, he resolved to follow the plan formerly adopted by Spikeman, and repose a little upon the turf on the road-side. The sun was very warm, and after a time Joey retreated to the other side of the hedge, which was shaded; and having taken his bundle from the side of the wheel where it hung, he first made his dinner of the provender he had brought with him, and then, laying his head on the bundle, was soon in a sound sleep, from which he was awakened by hearing voices on the other side of the hedge. He turned round, and perceived two men on the side of the road, close to his knife-grinder’s wheel. They were in their shirts and trousers only and sitting down on the turf.
“It would be a very good plan,” observed one of them; “we should then travel without suspicion.”