Peter admitted that this was true, although it wasn't his mother whom he wished to see so much as a friend of his called Stephen, and, one or two places like the Grey Hill and The Bending Mule. All this interested the Old Gentleman very much. “You, too, were at school?” Peter inquired politely. “I was,” said the Old Gentleman. “And was it like David Copperfield?” said Peter. “Parts of it--the nice parts. School was the best, the very best time of my life, my boy, and so you'll find it.” This was immensely reassuring, and Peter felt very much cheered. “You will make all the friends of your life there. You will learn to be a man. Dear me!” The Old Gentleman coughed. “I don't know what I would have done without school. You must have courage, you know,” he added. “I heard some one say once,” said Peter, “that courage is the most important thing to have. It isn't life that matters, but courage, this man said.” “Bless my soul,” the Old Gentleman said, “how old are you, boy?” “Twelve--nearly thirteen,” answered Peter. “Well, the more you see of boys the better. You might be forty by the way you talk. You want games and fellows of your own age, that's what you want. Why I never heard of such a thing, talking about life at your age.” Peter felt that he had done something very wrong, although he hadn't the least idea of his crime, so he turned the conversation. “I should like very much,” he said, “to hear about your school if you wouldn't mind.” Then the Old Gentleman began in the most wonderful way, and to hear him talk you would imagine that school was the paradise to which all good boys were sent--a deliriously delightful place, with a shop full of sweets, games without end, friends galore, and a little work now and then to prevent one's being bored. Peter listened most attentively with his head against the Old Gentleman's very warm coat, and then the warmth and the movement of the train caused the voice to swim further and further away into distance. “Bless my soul!” Peter heard as though it had been whispered at the end of the train. “Here's Exeter, young man. Your father said you were to change here.” A rubbing of eyes, and behold a stout guard in front of the door and no sign of the Old Gentleman whatever, but when he felt for his ticket in his side pocket he found also a glittering sovereign that had certainly not been there when he went asleep. All this was very encouraging, and Peter followed the guard across the Exeter platform hopefully and expectantly. Right down the platform, on a side line, was a little train that reminded Peter of the Treliss to Truro one, so helpless and incapable did it look. The guard put him and his luggage into a carriage and then left him with a last word as to Salton being his destination. He waited here a very long time and nothing happened. He must have slept again, because when he next looked out of the window the platform was full of people.