“Very true, Jacob; but I follow that up with another of your remarks, which is, ‘Better luck next time.’ God bless you, my boy; take care of yourself, and don’t get under the ice again!”
“For you I would to-morrow,” replied I, taking the proffered hand: “but if I could only see that Hodgson near a hole—”
“You’d not push him in?”
“Indeed I would,” replied I, bitterly.
“Jacob, you would not, I tell you—you think so now, but if you saw him in distress you would assist him as you did me. I know you, my boy, better than you know yourself.”
Whether Captain Turnbull or I were right remains to be proved in the sequel. We then shook hands, and I hastened away to see Mary, whom I had often thought of during my absence.
“Who do you think has been here?” said Mary, after our first greeting.
“I cannot guess,” replied I. “Not old Tom and his son?”
“No; I don’t think it was old Tom, but it was such an old quiz—with such a nose—O heavens! I thought I should have died with laughing as soon as he went downstairs. Do you know, Jacob, that I made love to him, just to see how he’d take it. You know who it is now?”
“O yes! you mean the Dominie, my schoolmaster.”