“I’ve always felt,” said Tillytuck mournfully, “that you never really believed anything I said. But if this…person has been telling you I left her she’s been speaking symbolically. I was druv to it. She told me to go.”

“Because he didn’t…and wouldn’t…believe in predestination,” said Mrs. Tillytuck. “He was no better than a modernist. I couldn’t live with a man who didn’t believe in predestination. Could you?”

“Sure and I’ve niver tried,” said Judy, to whom Mrs. Tillytuck had seemed to appeal. Mrs. Binnie asked what predestination was but nobody answered her.

“She told me to go,” repeated Tillytuck, “and I took her at her word. ‘There’s really been too much of this,’ I said…and it was all I did say. I appeal to you, Jane Maria, wasn’t it all I did say?”

Tears filled Mrs. Tillytuck’s eyes. You really felt afraid of drowning in them.

“You’re welcome back any time, Josiah,” she sobbed. “Any time you believe in predestination you can come home.”

Tillytuck said nothing. He turned and went out. Mrs. Tillytuck wiped her eyes while Judy regarded her rather stonily and Pat and Rae tried to keep their faces straight.

“This…this has upset me a little,” said Mrs. Tillytuck apologetically. “I hope you’ll excuse me. I hadn’t laid eyes on Josiah for fifteen years. He hasn’t changed a particle. Has he been here all that time?”

“No,” said Judy shortly. “Only seven years.”

“Then you know him pretty well I daresay. Always telling wonderful stories of his adventures I suppose? The yarns I’ve listened to! And every last one of them crazier than the others.”

“Was his grandfather really a pirate?” asked Rae. She had always been curious on that point.