Whipple, "she did not, I'm sorry to say. She and my
husband feel bad about it. But he may be found some day. He has been
missing 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 a
visit, when a telegram was brought up for Mr. Bobbsey.
"It's from Lakeport," he said, as he opened it and saw the date and the
name of the place from which it had come.
"From Lakeport?" asked Mr. Whipple, as Mr. Bobbsey was reading the
message. "That's where the old woodsman lives, isn't it?"
"Yes," answered Mrs. Bobbsey. "And, though he is very ill, he is being
well 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 glad
to help, for I always have a soft spot in my heart for those who camp in
the 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 held
the 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 on
him and he will get better. There was an injury to his head that made him
forget much of his early life. But now he is all right and he remembers
his real name."
"What is it?" asked Mrs. Bobbsey, while the others breathlessly waited for
an answer. "What is his real name?"
"John Whipple," was the answer.
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