"To be sure--well now this _are_ a piece of luck, and no mistake," he repeated, one big smile lighting up all his pleasant face. But suddenly it clouded over. "Then, ma'am, if you please, would it be better for me not to come no further? Would I be in the way, maybe?" The children set up a cry before Barbara had time to reply. "No, no, Tim; you _must_ come. Grandpapa and Grandmamma will always take care of Tim, 'cos he's been so good to us--won't they, Barbara?" Barbara looked rather anxious. Her own heart had warmed to the orphan boy, but she did not know how far she was justified in making promises for other people. "I dursn't go back to Monkhaven," said Tim; "they'd be sure to cotch me, and they'd give it me for a-climbing out o' window and a-running away. Nor I dursn't go back to Mick. But you've only to say the word, ma'am, and I'm off. I'll hide about, and mayhap somehow I might get a chance among the boat-people. It's all I can think of; for I've no money--leastways this is master's and missy's, and you'd best take it for them," he went on, as he pulled out the little packet from the inside of his jacket which he had already vainly offered to Peter. "And about Peter, p'raps you'd say a word to the old gentleman about sending him something. He were very good to us, he were; and he can always get a letter that's sent to----" but here the lump that had kept rising in the poor boy's throat all the time he was speaking, and that he had gone on choking down, got altogether too big; he suddenly broke off and burst out sobbing. It was too much--not only to have to leave the dear little master and missy, but to have to say good-bye to all his beautiful plans and hopes--of learning to be a good and respectable boy--of leading a settled and decent life such as mother--"poor mother"--could look down upon with pleasure from her home up there somewhere near the sun, in the heaven about which her child knew so little, but in which he still most fervently believed. "I'm a great fool," he sobbed, "but I did--I did want to be a good lad, and to give up gipsying." Barbara's heart by this time was completely melted, and Duke's and Pam's tears were flowing. "Tim, dear Tim, you must come with us," they said. "Oh, Barbara, do tell him he's to come. Why, even Toby sees how good Tim is; he's not barking a bit, and he's sniffing at him to show he's a friend." And Toby, hearing his own name, looked up in the old woman's face as if he too were pleading poor Tim's cause. She hesitated no longer. "Come with us my poor boy," she said, "it'll go hard if we can't find a place for you somewheres. And the General and the old lady is good and kind as can be. Don't ye be a-feared, but come with us. You must help me to get master and missy home, for it's a good bit we have to get over, you know."