Having settled that point, the boy prepared to go to bed. When he got to the door of the room, however, he turned back, and slowly retraced his steps to where I stood. He seemed bashful and nervous; he did not look into my eyes.
"There's never been anyone in the world that's behaved as well to me as you have," he said. "I shall never be able to thank you enough."
"Shut up, Andrew, and go to bed!" I broke in.
"I don't intend to speak about it again, but I must, just this last time. God bless you, Jack"—I had taught him to call me that—"and may you be the happiest man in the world, wherever you are."
Before I could prevent him he had caught my hand in both of his, and had kissed it passionately; then, with a sound suspiciously like a sob, he turned and bolted from the room. I had known him always for an odd, strange creature, but I confess I was moved more strongly then than perhaps I had ever been moved before.
Evidently he had made up his mind to make the most of the day; he was gone from the hotel when I came down in the morning. I took my last look at London on my own account, feeling not too cheerful at the prospect of going so far away. Then, towards the hour for sailing, I started for the ship. My luggage had gone on, and I had nothing to do but to put myself on board.
"The young gentleman came on board, and turned in about half an hour ago, sir," the steward told me. "Dreadful afraid of being seasick, sir; said he wasn't to be disturbed on any account."
"Let him alone by all means," I said laughing. I felt relieved to know that Andrew had got safely out of his adventures of the day. I turned in, and slept until the morning, by which time we were well out to sea.
Andrew did not put in an appearance all that day. He sent messages to me by the steward, to say that he was very ill, and did not want to see anyone; a little later, that he was getting better. It was quite late in the evening when I put the steward aside and insisted on seeing the boy. I was anxious about him.
The cabin was not particularly well lighted as I stumbled into it. I saw the boy sitting on the side of his bunk, with his face partly turned from me. Curiously enough, he was wearing his hat, a soft felt I had noticed him with the day before we left London.