“Now, my boy, I’m going this way, so I’ll bid you good-day,” said Billy. Jacky informed him that he was going the same way,—having only been taking a stroll,—and would willingly go back: whereupon Billy put his arm round his shoulder, as boys are wont to do, and Jacky grasped Billy round the waist, and thus they wandered home together.
“I say, you’re a funny chap,” observed the young sailor, in a comic vein, as they went along.
“So are you,” replied Jacky, with intense gravity, being deeply serious.
Billy laughed; but as the two friends at that moment emerged from the pass and came in sight of the White House, the laugh was suddenly checked, and was followed by a sound that was not unlike choking. Jacky looked up in alarm, and was surprised to see tears hopping over his companion’s brown cheeks. To find a lad who could put a giant to flight was wonderful enough, but to find one who could cry without any reason at all was beyond belief. Jacky looked perplexed and said, “I say, what’s the matter?”
“Oh! nothing; only this is my old home, and my scrimmage with that villain has made me come plump on it without thinkin’. I was born here. I know every stone and bush. I—I—there’s the old—”
He choked again at this point, and Jacky, whose mind was only opening, stood looking on in silent wonder.
“My old granny lives here; old Moggy—”
The expression of Jacky’s face caused Billy to stop.
“Why, what’s wrong, boy?”
“Is—is—o–old Moggy your granny?” cried Jacky, eagerly, stumbling over his words as if he had come upon stepping-stones in the dark.