"And I told him it was none of his business," said Frank, remorsefully. "O, he will never forgive me now; and who can blame him? Good old man! dear, good old man! My mother told me to be always very kind to him—and how have I repaid his goodness to me!"
It seemed now that the boy could not control his impatience until once more he had seen his benefactor, confessed all to him, and heard him say he was forgiven for his unkindness and ingratitude.
But the old drummer still remained on board the steamer. And Frank had only this faith to comfort him—that if his repentance was sincere, and he henceforth did only what was right, all would yet be well.
The next morning he was viewing the sunrise from the deck, when Seth Tucket came to his side.
"'Once more upon the waters! yet once more! and the waves bound beneath me as the steed that knows his rider—welcome to their roar!' Only they don't bound much, and they don't roar to-day," said Seth. "The boys have found out it's Sunday; and as we're to have a battle 'fore the week's out, they seem to think it's about as well to remember there's a difference in days. How are you, Manly?"
"Better," said Frank, with a smile.
"Happy?"—with a grimace meant to be sympathizing, but which was droll enough to be laughable.
"Happier than I was," said the drummer boy. "Happier than I've been for a long time."
"What! not happier, now you've lost every thing, than when you was hevin' such luck at play?"
"I wasn't happy then. I thought I was. But I was only excited. I am happier now that I've lost every thing; it's true, Tucket."