thought, and I cannot be too thankful to God for sparing us both a
little longer. My grandfather was a kind-hearted, good-tempered, honest
old man; but I know now that that is not enough to open the door of
heaven. Jesus is the only way there, and my grandfather knew little of,
and cared nothing for, _Him_.

Little Timpey became my constant companion, indoors and out of doors.
She was rather shy of the little Millars, for they were noisy and rough
in their play, but she clung to me, and never wanted to leave me. Day
by day she learnt new words, and came out with such odd little remarks
of her own, that she made us all laugh. Her great pleasure was to get
hold of a book, and pick out the different letters of the alphabet,
which, although she could hardly talk, she knew quite perfectly.

Dear little pet! I can see her now, sitting at my feet on a large flat
rock by the seashore, and calling me every minute to look at A, or B, or
D, or S. And so by her pretty ways she crept into all our hearts, and we
quite dreaded the answer coming to the letter my grandfather had written
to the owners of the _Victory_, which, we found, was the name of the
lost ship.

It was a very wet day, the Monday that the answer came. I had been
waiting some time on the pier, and was wet through before the steamer
arrived. Captain Sayers handed me the letter before anything else, and
I ran up with it to my grandfather at once. I could not wait until our
provisions and supplies were brought on shore.

Little Timpey was sitting on a stool at my grandfather's feet, winding a
long piece of tape round and round her little finger. She ran to meet me
as I came in, and held up her face to be kissed.