and tried hard, to forget
his lost love Gerty, but all in vain. Trying to forget her made matters
infinitely worse, so now he meant to indulge himself in the sweet belief
that she still was his, still loved him; that there was no such
individual in the world as silly old Sir Digby; and that he, Jack, had
only to go home, if it pleased Heaven to spare him, and claim the dear
girl as his wife.

He certainly did not mean to force himself to think about her, only he
would do nothing to impede the flow of happy thoughts whenever they
showed a tendency to come stealing over his soul. These are his own
words, spoken to himself in the privacy of his state-room. And between
you and me and the binnacle, reader, not to let it go any further, I
believe it was poor Mary's letter, with its "dear luv" and its "sweet
kisses," that was at the bottom of Jack's resolve. For had she not
written, as plain as quill can write, the magical sentence, "Yes, missus
misses you; so do I"? It didn't matter a spoonful of tar about the "so
do I," but there was the "missus misses you." Ah! it was around these
simple, euphonious words that hope hung like a garland of forget-me-not.
Why did missus miss him? Mary wouldn't have said that missus missed him
if missus didn't. So ran Jack's thoughts as he walked up and down the
floor of his cabin. No, Mary wasn't a girl of that sort. Missus missed
him, and there was an end of it. Missus missed him, _ergo_ missus must
sometimes think about him, and upon this belief he meant to hinge his
happiness. Missus must--

"Rat--tat--tat--tat."

"Come in. Ah, Tom, there you are! Glad you've come a little before
dinner is served. Well, we're all ready for sea, I suppose?"

"Yes; as soon as you like to-morrow morning, sir."

"Well, dowse the 'sir,' Tom, else I'll send you away without a morsel of
dinner. We're not on the quarter-deck now, you know. You're Tom, and I'm
just Jack."

A few minutes afterwards, Tom, strolling carelessly towards Jack's
writing-table, picked up a sheet of paper, and to his astonishment read
as follows:--

"Missus missed thee, so do I,
Drop the tear and sigh the sigh;
Yet ne'er let sorrow cloud thy brow--
She loved thee once, she loves thee now."

"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed Tom aloud.

Jack got as red as a tomato, and rushed to rescue the manuscript.

"Put it down at once, Tom! How dare you?"

But Tom only laughed the more. He read Jack's inspiration from end to
en