Chapter Eight.
I reach home and think I have had enough of the sea.
It was the early summer when one evening I came in sight of my home. The windows and doors were open. Without hesitation I walked up the steps, forgetting the effect which my sudden appearance might produce on my family. One of my youngest sisters was in the passage. I beckoned to her. “What do you want?” she asked; “you must not stop here; go away.”
“What! don’t you know me?” I asked. “No,” she answered; “who are you?”
“Jack—your brother Jack,” I answered. On this she ran off into the drawing-room, and I heard her exclaim, “There’s a great big beggar boy, and he says he is Jack—our brother Jack.”
“Oh no, that cannot be!” I heard one of my other sisters reply. “Poor Jack was drowned long ago in the Naiad.”
“No, he was not,” I couldn’t help exclaiming; and without more ado I ran forward.
My appearance created no small commotion among three or four young ladies who were seated in the room. “Go away; how dare you venture in here?” exclaimed one or two of them.
“Will you not believe me?” I cried. “I am Jack, I assure you, and I hope soon to convince you of the fact.”
“It is Jack, I know it is!” exclaimed one of them, jumping up and coming forward. I knew her in an