“Yes, I knew him well. I was on his ship.”
“But you aren’t drowned!” cried Lily.
The old gentleman smiled.
“No,” he said, “I wasn’t drowned; I got off safe. Uncle Tom used to talk to me, though, about his old home, and one day he said that he had carved his name on a tree in the park, and I was to go and see it if I ever got home.”
“Oh, I’ll show you,” said little Tom. “It is on a beech tree close by here. I’ll show you. There it is.”
He pointed to a tree on which some initials and a date were cut deep into the bark.
“It has kept very fresh,” said the old gentleman. “I thought it would have been grown over by now.”
“Father always comes and tidies it up on uncle’s birthday,” said the boy. “See, he is coming now! I’ll go and tell him you are here.—Father!” he shouted, running off—“father, here’s a gentleman who knew Uncle Tom!”
But when father came near and saw the old gentleman, he stared at him for a moment as if he had seen a ghost, and then he gave a great cry.
“Tom, Tom, it is you yourself!”