"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.