He seemed a funny old gentleman, the children thought, but still rather nice, especially when he brought those sweets out of his pocket and let them dip into the bag and take what they liked. They had seen him walking through the wood, and then when they left off playing, he had come to sit down beside them, and asked them their names.
“Mine’s Hugh, like father,” said the eldest; “and this is Lily, and this is Tom.”
The old gentleman looked a little quickly at Tom.
“Who is he named after?” he said.
The children’s faces grew grave.
“He is named after poor Uncle Tom,” said Lily in a low voice, “who went to sea and was drowned.”
There was silence for a minute. Then the old gentleman spoke again,—
“So poor Uncle Tom was drowned, was he?”
“Yes,” said Hugh. “His ship was lost, and everybody was drowned, ’cept two or three that got in the boat, and Uncle Tom wasn’t among them. Father waited and waited, but it wasn’t any good. So then he put up a monument in the church just where we can see it from our pew.”