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.
