‘It’s worth ten of your uncle’s, my dear. Don’t you show it him, though. He might take that away too. Your uncle’s a very good man, my dear, but you mustn’t mind everything he says to you. He forgets things. I never forget anything. I have plenty of time to think about things. I never forget.’
‘Will it go, grannie?’ I asked, for my uncle was a much less interesting subject than the watch.
‘It won’t go without being wound up; but you might break it. Besides, it may want cleaning. It’s several years since it was cleaned last. Where will you put it now?’
‘Oh! I know where to hide it safe enough, grannie,’ I exclaimed. ‘I’ll take care of it. You needn’t be afraid, grannie.’
The old lady turned, and with difficulty tottered to her seat. I remained where I was, fixed in contemplation of my treasure. She called me. I went and stood by her knee.
‘My child, there is something I want very much to tell you, but you know old people forget things—’
‘But you said just now that you never forgot anything, grannie.’
‘No more I do, my dear; only I can’t always lay my hands upon a thing when I want it.’
‘It was about the sword, grannie,’ I said, thinking to refresh her memory.
‘No, my dear; I don’t think it was about the sword exactly—though that had something to do with it. I shall remember it all by-and-by. It will come again. And so must you, my dear. Don’t leave your old mother so long alone. It’s weary, weary work, waiting.’