I doubted what he might say when he saw my clothes on, but he seemed not to notice it. He brought a candle in from the landing, and he looked strangely grave--grave with a curious composure. He went to the little wall-cupboard at his bed-head, and took out the cash-box, which had not been downstairs since the pale man had ceased work. "Stevy, my boy," he said, "have you said your prayers?" "Yes, grandfather." "An' didn't forget Gran'father Nat?" "No, grandfather, I never forget you." "Good boy, Stevy." He took the leather pocket-book from the box, and knelt by my side, with his arm about me. "Stevy," he said, "here's this money. It ain't ours, Stevy, neither yours nor mine, an' we've no right to it. I kept it for you, but I did wrong; an' worse, I was leadin' you wrong. Will you give it up, Stevy?" "Why, yes, grandfather." Truly that was an easy enough thing to say; and in fact I was in some way pleased to know that my mother had been right, after all. "Right, Stevy; be an honest boy always, and an honest man--better than me. Since I was a boy like you, I've gone a long way wrong, an' I've been a bad man, Stevy, a bad man some ways, at least. An' now, Stevy, I'm goin' away--for a bit. Presently, when I'm gone, you can go to the stairs an' call Bill Stagg--he'll come at once. Call Bill Stagg--he'll stay with you to-night. You don't mind Bill Stagg, do you?" Bill Stagg was an excellent friend of mine, and I liked his company; but I could not understand Grandfather Nat's going away. Where was he going, and why, so late at night? "Never mind that just now, Stevy. I'm going away--for a bit; an' whatever happens you'll always say prayers night an' mornin' for Gran'father Nat, won't you? An' be a good boy." There was something piteous now in my grandfather's hard, grave face. "Don't go, grandfather," I pleaded, with my arm at his neck, "don't go! Grandfather Nat! You're not--not going to die, are you?" "That's as God wills, my boy. We must all die some day." I think he was near breaking down here; but at the moment a voice called up the stairs. "Are you coming?" said the voice. "Time's nearly up!" And it frightened me more than I can say to know this second voice at last for Viney's. But my grandfather was firm again at once. "Yes," he cried, "I'm coming!... No more to do, Stevy--snivelling's no good." And then Grandfather Nat put his hands clumsily together, and shut his eyes like a little child. "God bless an' save this boy, whatever happens. Amen," said Grandfather Nat. Then he rose and took from the cash-box the watch that the broken-nosed man had sold. "There's that, too," he said musingly. "I dunno why I kep' it so long." And with that he shut the cash-box, and strode across to the landing. He looked back at me for a moment, but said nothing; and then descended the stairs. Bewildered and miserably frightened, I followed him.