“But I ought not to have deserted uncle?” said Don, interrogatively.
“Well, my boy,” said the old merchant thoughtfully, taking his pipe out of his mouth, and rubbing his stubbly cheek with the waxy end, “I hardly know what to say about that, so we’ll let it rest.”
“Confound all press-gangs!” said Uncle Josiah that night, as they were parting for bed. “But I don’t know, Don, perhaps this one was a blessing in disguise.”
“Then I hope, uncle, that the next blessing will come without any disguise at all. But, mother, you found my bundle?”
“Your bundle, my dear?”
“The one I threw up on the top of the bed-tester, when I was foolish enough to think of running away.”
“My dear Don, no.”
They went to the chamber; Don leaped on the edge of the bed, reached over, and brought down the bundle all covered with flue.
“Don, my darling!”
“But I had repented, mother, and—”