Notwithstanding this argument, Bobby felt almost sure that the lost ten dollars was a part of his capital.

“I will tell you my story now, Bob, if you like.  You condemned me without a hearing, as Jim Guthrie said when they sent him to the House of Correction for getting drunk.”

“Go ahead.”

The substance of Tom’s story was, that his father drank so hard, and was such a tyrant in the house, that he could endure it no longer.  His father and mother did not agree, as any one might have suspected.  His mother, encouraged by the success of Bobby, thought that Tom might do something of the kind, and she had provided him the money to buy his stock of books.

Bobby had not much confidence in this story.  He had been deceived once; besides, it was not consistent with his previous narrative, and he had not before hinted that he had obtained his mother’s consent.  But Tom was eloquent, and protested that he had reformed, and meant to do well.  He declared, by all that was good and great, Bobby should never have reason to be ashamed of him.

Our little merchant was troubled.  He could not now get rid of Tom without actually quarrelling with him, or running away from him.  He did not wish to do the former, and it was not an easy matter to do the latter.  Besides, there was hope that the runaway would do well; and if he did, when he carried the profits of his trade home, his father would forgive him.  One thing was certain, if he returned to Riverdale he would be what he had been before.

For these reasons Bobby finally, but very reluctantly, consented that Tom should remain with him, resolving, however, that, if he did not behave himself, he would leave him at once.

Before morning he had another reason.  When the steamer got out into the open bay, Bobby was seasick.  He retired to his berth with a dreadful headache; as he described it afterwards, it seemed just as though that great walking beam was smashing up and down right in the midst of his brains.  He had never felt so ill before in his life, and was very sure, in his inexperience, that something worse than mere seasickness ailed him.

He told Tom, who was not in the least affected, how he felt; whereupon the runaway blustered round, got the steward and the captain into the cabin, and was very sure that Bobby would die before morning, if we may judge by the fuss he made.

The captain was angry at being called from the pilot house for nothing, and threatened to throw Tom overboard if he didn’t stop his noise.  The steward, however, was a kind-hearted man, and assured Bobby that passengers were often a great deal sicker than he was; but he promised to do something for his relief, and Tom went with him to his state room for the desired remedy.

The potion was nothing more nor less than a table spoonful of brandy, which Bobby, who had conscientious scruples about drinking ardent spirits, at first refused to take.  Then Tom argued the point, and the sick boy yielded.  The dose made him sicker yet, and nature came to his relief, and in a little while he felt better.