They were sitting there when the great clock struck six—warning them that the time to say "good-by" had come.
Paul stood up and began to pull off the paper wrappings of a little parcel.
It was nothing less than a bottle of sea water, at the bottom of which lay the hermit-crab.
"I—I thought—perhaps—you 'd like it for a keepsake—after I 'm gone," said Paul.
He had meant to speak quietly, but he choked on the last words, thrust the bottle into Sir John's hand, and flung himself down among the sweet-peas in a passion of tears.
When Paul was fast asleep that evening at Beach House, Sir John and Dr. May were holding a consultation together. The Baronet had made the doctor an offer,—namely, to take Paul for his own adopted son and heir, he being without a relative in all the wide world.
