“As I am in Devonshire, and as tickets cost a great deal,” continued Piers, “I was going to ask if you would drive me to the nearest railway station, and if you would lend me my fare, third-class. I’m seven years old, so I shall only want a half-ticket to a station called Haversham.” “What an extraordinary boy! What do you want to go to Haversham for? Have you no money of your own?” Piers held up his two empty hands. “I have a great deal of money,” he said. “I am a very rich boy.” He paused. “Well?” “I can’t tell you any more; but will you trust me with a third-class fare to Haversham?” “The nearest railway station is half a mile away, just behind those trees,” said Squire Furzby. “Please will you take me there? I will promise so faithfully to return the money if you’ll lend it to me; on my honor, you know—and as you are a gentleman, and I’m another. Do you think you could trust me?” “Your ticket at half-price third-class costs one and elevenpence,” said the gentleman. “I happen to know that line well.” “Would you lend it me? It will be such an immense help.” “If you confide in me.” “That’s just what I can’t do. I am an unfortunate boy burdened with a secret. Will you trust me because you are a gentleman and because I am one?” “’Pon my word, you’re the queerest little chap I ever saw in my life. Can’t you tell me anything about yourself?” “My Christian name is Piers.” “It’s an uncommon name.” “It is, but not in our family. You shall have your money back to-morrow or the next day at farthest. One and elevenpence won’t break you, will it?” “No,” said the gentleman. “Jump up, Piers; I’ll drive you to the station, anyhow.” The child obeyed, and a moment later was seated by the man’s side. The Squire whipped up his pony. “What do you want to do when you get to Haversham?” “I want to go to Pelham Towers.” “Pelham Towers! Hullo! They’re in great trouble over there, you know.” “Are they? I don’t know,” said little Piers. His face was white, he began to shiver. They reached the railway station. “Will you trust me with the one and elevenpence,” asked the child, “because you’re a gentleman and I’m another?” “’Pon my word, I begin to think you are a gentleman,” said the Squire. “Here’s your money. Take three shillings, you had better—you’ll want something to eat on the way.” “Thank you very much,” said Piers. He took off his ragged cap, made a graceful bow to the gentleman, and then bounded into the station. “Queer little chap! Wonder what it means?” said the Squire to himself. “Looked like a gentleman although dressed as a beggar. I am not sorry I did it, no, I’m not sorry. I’ll never see that money again, of course, but all the same, I’m not sorry I did it.”