"Oh, Peter!" said he, gripping my hand, "it be come at last—Gaffer be goin'."
"Going, Simon?"
"Dyin', Peter. Fell downstairs 's marnin'. Doctor says 'e can't last the day out—sinkin' fast, 'e be, an' 'e be axin' for 'ee, Peter. 'Wheer be Peter?' says 'e over an' over again; 'wheer be the Peter as I found of a sunshiny arternoon, down in th' 'aunted 'Oller?' You weren't at work 's marnin', Peter, so I be come to fetch 'ee—you'll come back wi' me to bid 'good-by' to the old man?"
"Yes, I'll come, Simon," I answered; "wait here for me."
Charmian was waiting for me in the cottage, and, as she looked up at me, I saw the trouble was back in her eyes again.
"You must—go leave me?" she inquired.
"For a little while."
"Yes—I—I felt it," she said, with a pitiful little smile.
"The Ancient is dying," said I. Now, as I spoke, my eyes encountered the staple above the door, wherefore, mounting upon a chair, I seized and shook it. And lo! the rusty iron snapped off in my fingers—like glass, and I slipped it into my pocket.
"Oh, Peter!—don't go—don't leave me!" cried Charmian suddenly, and I saw that her face was very pale, and that she trembled.