"Well, that's inconvenient!" Hannover grumbled, pulling the curtains back and looking outside. Sheets of rain were pouring down over the sand, the sea, and the town. Tim bounced to his master's side and stood on his tiptoes to look out.

"I knew it was gonna rain!" he laughed happily. "I just knew it! 'Cause the wind was a-blowin' somefing awful yesterday. An' I knew it was blowin' in a storm!"

"Do you know what this means?" Hannover asked in disappointment.

"I fink it means yer garden'll do right well 'cause the garden likes a drink o' water now an' then! But d'ya know what I 'eard? I 'eard tell the plants live on light. An' if they didn't 'ave it, they'd wither up an' blow away! Ain't that a nice thought, livin' on light?"

Hannover shook his head, still grumbling. "It means that if I send you to take the mail, you will probably be too late. And then all of my letters will be stalled!" he complained, ignoring his chattering errand boy. "Humph! Well, there is only one thing to do, much as it displeases me!" he went on. "I shall have to send someone in the carriage."

"But I could make it, sir! I'm sure I could!" Tim volunteered cheerfully.

"Oh, you could make it alright! You would make it about an hour too late with that headwind blowing right in your face. Not to mention, you would be drenched, and everyone would scowl at me for sending you out to catch your death!" Hannover let the curtains fall back into place and started gathering his mail into his hands. "There, take these down to that irresponsible loon named Rory and tell him to be off quick."

Timothy hastened to do his chore and soon returned to tell Hannover that Rory had set out on his mission. After that, the day grew slow and dull for the errand boy. His master had no use for him at the moment. And after begging all of the other servants for a job, he found that none of them needed him either.

At last, Tim went wandering aimlessly through the house. He crept up to the drawing room door where he could hear the repetitious noise of Gracie doing scales on the piano. She was all alone, glowing like something from a fairytale as she sat in the light of the big windows.

The girl had been sitting there for what felt like hours, running her fingers up and down the keys and wondering when she would ever master her lesson. For the last few days, everything had begun to feel very monotonous and joyless to her. Her aunt and uncle went traipsing off on all kinds of exciting adventures while she remained trapped indoors studying.

Mrs. Carlyle kept telling her that she was Arthur's responsibility now and that she was to rely on him instead of her. But Grace couldn't have plucked up the courage to approach her brother for anything. She was afraid to disturb him while he was reading. And when he went on his walks by the sea, she was too nervous to ask whether she could come.

Timothy gazed at his friend for a minute. It seemed like ages since he had seen her last. She was so busy with her lessons, and he was usually so busy downstairs, that they hardly found a minute to talk. He hadn't even been able to show her how well he was learning to read and write or to tell her how good a friend her brother was becoming to him. But now he had all the time he could want.

"Pst! Gracie," the little boy whispered. "Can ya come an' play?"

The girl's sapphire eyes looked back at him, glittering with a spark of new joy. Play? Oh, what a delightful word. A flush of color brightened her cheeks. For once, she hoped that perhaps she really could play because she was practically alone.

The Carlyles had left on an exciting boating ride on the ocean. Of course, they had meant for her and Arthur to go along—especially Arthur. But for some reason, the young doctor had politely declined their offer, and Mrs. Carlyle had quickly decided that Grace might as well stay behind too.

"Any opportunity to better your skills and strengthen your mind is a good one to take!" the woman had said, patting the girl on the shoulder. "Make your brother proud and learn your lessons very well. When you are finished, you may recite them to him if I am not back in time. After all, you are his responsibility now."

Arthur hadn't paid her any attention that day. She was half sorry and half relieved. She dreaded the awkward, cold meetings they had. And yet, if she went a day without seeing her brother's blue eyes look at her, without hearing his solemn voice speak her name, she felt rather lost and incomplete.

"It will only take me half an hour to finish this lesson," Grace told Timothy. "Then we may do anything we wish!"

With that joyful prospect, Gracie's lesson seemed to go by quickly. But half an hour seemed like a very long time to Timothy.

The little boy ran his hand against the woven tapestries as he walked down the hall. He had seen them all countless times before, but they never seemed boring. Every time he passed them by, he had to gaze at his favorite ones.

He liked the colorful scene of a kingdom the best. In that woven picture, he could see a castle and a city on the top of a high hill which was surrounded by clouds. That lofty citadel always made him think of Heaven, the place where he would finally meet his magnificent Creator and the parents whom he had never known.

He could have stared at that scene for hours. But moving on, he looked at his second favorite tapestry. This one was very faded and very old. But even though the color had been faded by time, he could still make out an elegant border of designs and lines of words which were spelled out in golden thread. Tim stared at those letters and tried to sound them out the way Arthur had taught him to.

"Thou...shalt...not...steal," he finally managed. He glowed with victory as he found that he could read it. The next lines were easier because they all began the same way.

"Thou shalt not...kill. Thou shalt not...bear false witness..." He smiled brightly and giggled in delight. "Why, it's the Ten Commandments! The preacher went through 'em just last week. An' I fink I remember most of 'em still!" He felt very pleased with himself for being able to read.

"I bet I could even read Lady Denzell's last letter now!" he thought proudly. "But I wouldn't need to. I can still remember it word for word."

For the umpteenth time, he repeated the poem in his mind and wondered what it meant. Who had this woman been? And what had she been carrying in her urn? Why had she needed a Heavenly helper? And why had a sight of her master solved all of her problems? Timothy asked himself questions until he completely wore himself out. No answers came. And at last, he felt just as bored as before.

Only five minutes had passed. They felt like fifteen. But by then, his feet had led him straight to the library door, and he cracked it open to peek inside. To his delight, he saw Arthur seated by the window. The young man was holding an open book in his hands, but he wasn't reading. His eyes were staring straight ahead, and he had fallen deep into thought.

"Arthur," Tim whispered, "can I come in?"

His friend roused himself from his dismal reverie and looked up at the little boy with a welcoming smile. "Ah, you must have known I needed some company!" he said, trying to sound cheerful. "I wondered where you had gone! You did not come to have your lesson this morning."

Timothy bounded into the room and climbed up onto the man's knees. "That's 'cause me an' Mr. Hannover, we 'ad an' awful long night!" he explained. "An' by the time we got t' sleep, we was so tired we didn't neither one of us wake up till seven! Was you feelin' lonely?"

"A bit," the doctor answered quietly.

"Then why didn't ya go down an' listen' t' Gracie playin' the piano? She's awful good at it!"

A look of curiosity crossed Arthur's face. "Gracie? Do you know my sister?" he asked.

"I should say I do! She's been a right nice friend t' me! An' sometimes, I wish she was me sister 'cause I love her very much!"

A gentle smile touched the man's lips. "I am glad of that," he said. Then, with a cloud of confusion on his brow, he asked, "But is my sister not with the Carlyles? I thought surely she would have gone with them!"

Tim shrugged his shoulders. "I dunno where the Carlyles might be, but Gracie ain't wiv 'em. She's down practicin' her piano."

The fact passed through the little boy's mind without much interest. But it plagued Arthur with questions and thoughts that he didn't like. His quandaries didn't last long though because Timothy chattered on in an excited voice.

"Arthur, d'ya know what? I read a whole lot o' words t'day on me own wivout no 'elp!"

"Did you?" Arthur asked exuberantly. The cloud over his day was beginning to lift under the child's sunny influence. "And what did they say?"

Tim went through all of the ten commandments. Then he wrote a few of them down for his teacher in his scribbly handwriting.

"There! That's what I read!" he exclaimed with cheer. "I'm gettin' better, ain't I, Arthur?"

"You are indeed!" the man commended.

"What'll ya teach me now?" the lad asked.

Arthur's mind was far from capable of teaching that morning. His thoughts had been so confusing that all of his worldly wisdom and earthly knowledge seemed to be tottering on the edge of uncertainty. He had been questioning everything he had ever considered fact. Now, for all he knew, "fact" itself might have been a craftily formed lie. Above all the questions in his mind, one kept repeating and troubling his heart. Was there a God in the universe? How would he ever know?

"Today, I think we will take a holiday from lessons," he said, closing the book of physics which he had been trying to study and shoving it away. "Would you like me to read to you?"

The boy's shimmery eyes smiled up at him. "I'll like doin' anyfing wiv you!" he answered.

"Then run and find me a book to read. Whichever you think you will like best."

Timothy already knew which book he wanted to read. He had seen it on the shelves the morning before, and he had recognized the familiar gold letters on the binding. He found it in a heartbeat. And without caring where the pages fell, he opened the book and handed it to his friend.

Arthur didn't pause to look at Timothy's choice. He let the lad scramble back up into his lap. Then, leaning back in his chair, he scanned the page with his eyes. As he read the first words to himself, he hesitated. It had been years since he had read a Bible. And he felt almost reluctant to read it now. But Tim was waiting so expectantly and so happily. He didn't want to disappoint the child. Without another delay, he began to read in his clear deep voice.

The chapter which Timothy had chosen at random told the story of the Samaritan woman who met Jesus at the well. She had thought it very strange when the Lord had asked for a drink of water from her pitcher. For as long as she had lived, the Jews and the Samaritans had been at odds with each other. But Jesus had told her that if she had known who he was, she would have asked, and he would have given her living water that would have quenched her thirst for ever.

Tim smiled as he listened. He knew what it was like to drink from the overflowing cup of God's Holy Spirit, to be full of his love and surrounded by his light. But before the story had quite ended, something about it began to sound strangely familiar to him. Hadn't he heard this story before? Hadn't he pictured the woman many a time walking to the well and seeing her master sitting there at its edge? In the story, the woman set down her water pot and ran to tell the other villagers that she had found the Christ. At last, a puzzle piece in Timothy's mind fell into place.

"Arthur, what's a water pot?" he asked, giving a start of sudden excitement.

"It is like a pitcher, I believe," the man answered.

"A pitcher? Is that the same as a vase or an urn?"

"Very much the same. Why?" Arthur asked.

Timothy was too excited to answer. It was all beginning to make sense. The woman in Lady Denzell's poem had been this very Samaritan, the poor wayward woman who had so desperately needed the overflowing grace and love of God.

A well! That's what Jesus was sittin' on when the woman found 'im! An' Jesus was her master as well as mine an' everyone else's! The well! That's where the next clue's gotta be! Oh, I've gotta tell Gracie! He leapt to his feet, too giddy with joy to explain himself. In a few hurried words, he excused himself and then ran off on his new mission.

"Gracie!" he shouted, bursting into the drawing room. "I've got it, I've got it! Are yer lessons done now?" He grabbed her hand without a second's pause and pulled the stunned girl to her feet.

"Well...yes. I just finished them. But I don't understand!" she exclaimed.

"The next clue t' the treasure! I know where t' find it! I'm sure I do! Come on, I'll show you where it is!"

Thank you so much for reading! If you're enjoying this book, please consider supporting my work on my Buy Me a Coffee page https://www.buymeacoffee.com/theresa29s1. It would mean so much to me!