He made
friends and lived in the woods. That was all that was known about him.
Few, if any, had known his name until now.
"And so he is John Whipple," said Mr. Bobbsey, rather talking to himself
than to any one else. "Strange that he should have forgotten it all these
years, I wonder if I can find his folks. Why, your name is Whipple!" he
said to Laddie's uncle. "Do you know who Uncle Jack might be?"
"I think I do," said Mr. Whipple slowly, and his voice trembled. "I think
he is my long-lost brother, and the brother of my sister--he is Laddie's
other uncle! Oh, if it only turns out that way!"
"Is Uncle John found?" asked Laddie, who, with his playmates, Flossie and
Freddie, began to understand a little of what was going on. "Is Uncle John
found?"
"We hope so, my dear," said his aunt gently. "How can we make sure?" she
asked her husband.
"There is only one way," he said.
"You mean to go to Lakeport?"
"That's it. Where can I find him?" asked Mr. Whipple of Mr. Bobbsey.
"Uncle Jack, I will call him, until I make sure he is my long-lost
brother," he added.
"He was taken to a private hospital, not far out of town. I'll be very
glad if you and your wife, and Laddie, as well, will come back to Lakeport
with us. Then you can see Uncle Jack and make sure whether or not he is
your brother."
"I'll be glad to do that. But I thought you were going to stay in New
York for some time yet."
"We can go back to-morrow if need be," said Mr.
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