"And," added Tom, "Uncle has something so strange and nice to tell you!"
"What is it, Tom?" said his two sisters, both in a breath as it were.
"I can't, won't, and sha'n't tell you, girls," cried Tom, laughing, "because that would spoil the fun when Uncle comes."
So all, even Veevee, who would not get off Tom's knees for a minute, had to be as patient as they could. But the time passed so quickly, listening to all this hearty young sailor had to tell of his voyage to the far north, that before anyone was aware it was nearly seven o'clock.
And now down jumps Veevee and runs towards the door, barking aloud as if he were a very big dog.
"They're coming! They're coming! Veevee knows!" And coming they were indeed.
Tom had had a hearty welcome when he arrived, but when this best of uncles at last managed to sit down on the sofa: "Shiver my timbers, sister," he said to Mrs. Dunlop, "if it isn't worth while going all the way to the back of the North Pole just to get such a welcome home as this."
Jack Staysail was a sailor every inch of him. He had roughed it so much in the Greenland seas, and been out in so many storms, that his face was as red as a boiled beet; but his eyes were as full of fun and merriment as a boy's.
"We're not all here yet," he said. "I have asked my friend, Professor Peterkin, the Swede, to come in to-night with his mastiff." When their uncle mentioned the mastiff, Aralia and Pansy began to tremble for Veevee, but Tom only laughed.
"Why," he said, "although Briton—that's his name—is big enough to tackle a bear, he wouldn't injure a mouse."