Jack hesitated an instant.
The fear that she too might insist on sending Louis to the poor farm caused him to question whether he had better tell the whole truth, but another look at the kindly face decided him.
He related his story with more detail than he had to Farmer Pratt, and when he concluded the little woman said in a motherly tone,—
"You poor children! If the ship exploded there's no one for you to go home to, and what will become of such a helpless pair?"
"I can't tell I'm sure, ma'am; but I know we ain't helpless"; and Jack spoke very decidedly now. "I'm big an' can work, so I'll take care of Louis till we find his father."
"But if the ship was blown all to pieces?" the little woman continued.
"That don't make any difference," Jack interrupted. "We're goin' right to his house in New York some time, no matter how far it is."
"But it's a terribly long distance, and you children will surely be sun-struck before you get even to Boston!" Then she added quickly, "Here I am forgetting that you must be hungry! Come straight away into the kitchen while I see what there is in the cupboard, for Aunt Nancy Curtis never lets any one, much less children, want for food very long in her house."
"Are you Aunt Nancy?" Jack asked.
"I'm aunt to everybody in the neighborhood, which ain't many, and two or three more nephews won't make any difference. Set right up to the table, and after you've had a glass of cool milk, a piece of chicken and some cake I baked to put away for the summer boarders, we'll see what can be done."