CHAPTER XXI
UNCLE JACK'S REAL NAME
"Well! Well!" laughed Mr. Bobbsey, when he heard what Freddie said."That's great! Almost had a goat, did you? I must hear about that!"
"But first tell us about Uncle Jack," begged Nan. "Is he going to getbetter?"
"Oh, I hope he is going to get better!" broke in Freddie. "It isn't a bitnice to be sick. You have to stay in bed, and sometimes you have to haveyour head all bound up, and sometimes you have to take the awfullest kindof medicine ever was."
"You don't always have to stay in bed when you're sick," put in Flossie."And sometimes the medicine isn't bad a bit. It's sweet and nice."
"But tell us about Uncle Jack," begged Nan again. "He'll get better, won'the?"
"That is something the doctors can't tell," answered her father. "I sawhim in the hospital."
"Was he glad to see you?" asked Mrs. Bobbsey.
"Well, to tell you the truth he didn't know me. He was very ill and wasout of his head with fever. I did what I could for him, and saw that hewould be well taken care of, and then went to Mr. Todd's house to stay allnight. I said I'd go back to the hospital in the morning, but Uncle Jackwas no better, and, after waiting two or three days, I decided to comeback here."
"Didn't he know you at all?" asked Nan.
"No, he was out of his head with fever all the while. Before I came, hehad told some of the doctors that he had something very important to tellme--something that had to do with his friends or relations, they said. Hewould tell no one else but me, but when I got to his bedside he could nottalk so that I could understand him. So really I don't know any more abouthim than before. I don't even know what his real name is.
"Sometimes he used to call himself Jackson, and again it would be someother name. I think he may not have known who he really was. But if hedoes, it will be some time before he can tell me, or any one else. He wasstill out of his head when I came away."
"Are you going back?" asked Mrs. Bobbsey.
"Not until they send for me, which will be when he takes a turn for thebetter or worse. I want to do all I can for the poor old man, for he wasso good to Flossie and Freddie. But now tell me about the goat."
Freddie and Flossie took turns doing that, and a very funny story theymade of it, too. Mr. Bobbsey laughed, and laughed again. Then he had tohear about everything else that had happened while he was in Lakeport.
"And now tell us what happened there--I mean besides about Uncle Jack,"said Nan. "Did you see any of my friends?"
"And did you see Bessie Benton?" Flossie asked, naming a little girl withwhom she often played.
"Yes, I saw Bessie," said Mr. Bobbsey, "and she sent you her love."
"Did you see Tommy Todd?" Freddie queried.
"Yes; I stayed at his house."
"How is the ice-boat?" asked Bert.
"Well, there has been a thaw, as you know, and there isn't enough ice inLake Metoka on which to sail the _Bird_. I guess Tommy'll have to waituntil you get back there, Bert. We'll have more cold weather yet."
"Oh, are we going to leave New York?" asked Nan sorrowfully.
"We can't _live_ here," said her mother. "We've stayed longer now than Ithought we would. Have you much more business to look after?" she askedher husband.
"It will take about two weeks more, and then I think we'll go back toLakeport. But you children can have plenty of good times in two weeks, Ishould think."
"Of course we can!" cried Bert. "And when we get back home----"
"Are we going camping?" interrupted Freddie. "Flossie and I want to gocamping in the woods."
"On an island in a lake," added the little girl. "And we can take thebugs that go around and around and around and--and----"
"And the bugs that go around and around will catch all the mosquitoes thatfly up and down, up and down, and bite us!" laughed Mrs. Bobbsey. "Yes, wecertainly shall have to take the 'go around' bugs to camp with us,children."
"Do you really think we can go camping?" asked Bert of his father.
"Well, I don't know. We'll see."
The Bobbsey twins, both sets of them, did indeed have many more good timesin New York. I wish I had room to tell you about them, but I have notspace. They went to see many sights, paid another visit to Central Parkand Bronx Park and saw many nice plays and moving picture shows.
Mr. and Mrs. Whipple and Laddie often went with the Bobbseys on littleexcursions about the great city. Laddie and the children became betterfriends than before, and Mrs. Whipple said her little nephew had never hadsuch good times in all his life.
"He missed his mother greatly before your children came to this hotel,"said Mrs. Whipple to Mrs. Bobbsey.
"When is Mrs. Dickerson coming back from California?" asked Mrs. Bobbsey.
"When it is warm here. She can not stand cold weather. But she did not goout to California altogether on account of the climate."
"Didn't she?"
"No. You have heard my husband speak of a long-lost brother--also abrother of Mrs. Dickerson's, who was a Whipple before her marriage."
"Yes, I heard something about that."
"Well, for a number of years my husband and Mrs. Dickerson have beentrying to find this lost brother. And there was a rumor that he had goneto California when a boy and had grown up among the miners near SanFrancisco. It was to find out, if possible, whether or not this was so,that Mrs. Dickerson went out West. Though, to be sure, the Winters hereare hard for her to endure."
"Did she have any success in finding her brother?" asked Mr. Bobbsey.
"No," answered Mrs. Whipple, "she did not, I'm sorry to say. She and myhusband feel bad about it. But he may be found some day. He has beenmissing many years."
It was two or three days after this talk that, one evening, Mr. and Mrs.Whipple and Laddie were in the hotel rooms of the Bobbseys, paying avisit, when a telegram was brought up for Mr. Bobbsey.
"It's from Lakeport," he said, as he opened it and saw the date and thename of the place from which it had come.
"From Lakeport?" asked Mr. Whipple, as Mr. Bobbsey was reading themessage. "That's where the old woodsman lives, isn't it?"
"Yes," answered Mrs. Bobbsey. "And, though he is very ill, he is beingwell looked after, thanks to the money you gave for him."
"Oh, I didn't give much. It was your husband who did the most. I was gladto help, for I always have a soft spot in my heart for those who camp inthe woods. How is Uncle Jack, by the way? I believe that's his name?"
"Yes, that _was_ his name," said Mr. Bobbsey in a queer voice, as he heldthe telegram out to Mr. Whipple.
"It was his name--what do you mean?"
"I mean that he has come to his senses now. The doctors have operated onhim and he will get better. There was an injury to his head that made himforget much of his early life. But now he is all right and he remembershis real name."
"What is it?" asked Mrs. Bobbsey, while the others breathlessly waited foran answer. "What is his real name?"
"John Whipple," was the answer. "That's what this telegram is about.Though everybody called the woodchopper Uncle Jack, his real name is JohnWhipple!"