“Well,” he said, “I should have no objections to make a bargain of that sort with old Father Time if we could fall in with him. But, my dears, changes will come, you know. The whole world is full of changes, and the whole universe too for that matter. And you, Tom, will be going away to sea, and ’Theena will have to go to school. I might make a sailor of her, but, bother me if I could teach her the piano and dancing and the like of that, unless it were a hornpipe such as the sailors dance on a Saturday night. Yes, my dears, changes must and will come.”
Black Tom came up at this moment and began rubbing his great head against the boy’s arm as he lay on the grass. Black Tom was a cat, and a very wonderful specimen he was; elephantic in size as far as the term could be applied to any grimalkin, with an enormous broad and honest-looking face of his own. He was probably not more than two years of age at this time; but Tom—the boy Tom—had saved his life when he was little more than full-grown. It was quite a little adventure for the young Hermit Hunter of the Wilds. As far as could be known, the cat had attempted the abduction of a young or puppy-fox, but the mother coming home in time a furious battle had ensued. The hermit came up at the very moment the fox had scored victory, and was proceeding to break the cat up, as some day the dogs might break her up. But a well-directed arrow from Tom’s cross-bow sent her yelping to her den, and then the boy picked up the half-dead cat and carried him to the hermitage. He recovered after a few weeks of careful nursing; and since then, wherever the boy went the cat followed, all through the woods and over the hills, and even out to sea in the Oceana yacht. Boy and cat were inseparable, and throughout the length and breadth of the parish they were known to everybody as “the two Toms.” When at peace, Tom the cat was very contented-looking, though no great beauty, his shoulder and head having been terribly scarred in that encounter with the fox; but he could be very fierce when he pleased. He tolerated Connie the collie dog, and even slept in his arms; but if any strange dog came into the hut Tom mounted his back and rode him out, whacking him all the way.
. . . . . . .
Changes must and will come. Yes, and changes came to all about Craigielea before very long. First and foremost Dick went away to Oxford. He had a cousin there who would look after him while at college, and, as Uncle Robert phrased it, put him up to the ropes.
Then an American farmer called at Craigielea and stayed for a week, telling very wonderful stories indeed about life and adventures in the sunny south of the United States, to all of which Jack listened with open-mouthed earnestness. And when this farmer went away he left poor Mrs. Talisker in tears, for her dear boy Jack went away with him.
Dear boy Jack did not himself take on much about the matter, however. Indeed, though he did manage to screw a tear or two out when saying good-bye to his mother and Alicia, there certainly were no tears in his eyes as he parted with Tom.
“Ta, ta, Old Cinder!” he said, shaking his brother’s hand. “Take care of yourself, my Cinder; and if ever you are out our way drop round and see us, and I’ll let you ride a buck-jumper that will toss you half-way to the moon. Ta, ta! Be good.”
The old farm was a deal quieter after Dick and Jack had gone. There was far less whooping, or barking of dogs, or cracking of whips. Uncle Robert said the place was not the same at all.
Then came another change. For Captain Herbert walked into the house one forenoon as quietly and coolly as if he had not been from home for over a week. This caused the greatest change of all, for Tom had to get ready for sea at once. His uncle took him straight away to Glasgow to get his outfit; and when the boy was rigged out in his pilot suit, with gilt buttons and cap with badge and band, very natty and neat he looked. ’Theena was very proud of him now; but at the same time she was very sad, for those brass buttons and that blue pilot-jacket meant separation for many and many a long day.
When Tom awoke one morning and looked out of his window he could see a beautiful black painted barque lying at anchor in the bay, with tall tapering spars shining white in the sunlight, as if they had been formed of satin-wood. Then Tom knew that his time had come.