“Well, I do believe it is Jack,” cried Jane, coming up and taking my other hand, though I was so dirty that she did not, I fancy, like to kiss me.
“So he is—he must be!” cried the others; and now, in spite of my tattered dress, their sisterly affection got the better of all other considerations, and they threw their arms about me like kind girls as they really were, and I returned their salutes, in which Grace Goldie came in for a share, with long unaccustomed tears in my eyes.
Just then a shriek of astonishment was heard, and there stood Aunt Martha at the door. “Who have you got there?” she exclaimed.
“It’s Jack come back,” answered my sisters and Grace in chorus.
“Jack come back! impossible!” cried out Aunt Martha, in what I thought sounded a tone of dismay.
“Yes, I am Jack, I assure you,” I said, going up to her; “and I hope to be your very dutiful and affectionate nephew, whatever you may once have thought me;” and I took her hand and raised it to my lips.
“If you are Jack I am glad to see you,” she said, her feelings softening; “and it will at all events be a comfort to your poor mother to know that you are not drowned.”
“My mother! where is she?” I asked—“I trust she is not ill.”
“Yes, she is, I am sorry to say, and up-stairs in bed,” replied my aunt; “but I’ll go and break the news to her, lest the sound of all this hubbub should reach her ears, and make her inquire what is the matter.”
I had now time to ask about the rest of my family. My father was out, but was soon expected home, and in the meantime, while Aunt Martha had gone to tell my mother, by my sisters’ advice I went into the bedroom of one of my brothers, and washed, and dressed myself in his clothes. By the time Aunt Martha came to look for me I was in a more presentable condition than when I entered the house.