Bobby knew that, although the boys might praise him, and even the Old Doctor himself might be his friend, there was one member of the faculty who did not approve of him. Mr. Leith seldom spoke to him, save when it was necessary in class-room.
New Year’s Day came, and the presents from home were given out in the big hall after breakfast. It was a time of great hilarity and fun; but Bobby had hard work to keep back the tears when there were put into his hands presents addressed in his mother’s and his father’s writing—presents prepared far back in the summer before they had gone on that fatal voyage, and left in the care of Mrs. Martin.
Michael Mulcahey and Meena had not forgotten the boy, either. Their little presents breathed of love and friendship. Meena had a tender place in her heart for Bobby, after all. Michael wrote that she had refused to marry him on Christmas day, for the seven hundred and fifteenth time!
It was hard work by this time for Bobby Blake to believe that Gray’s imaginary shipwreck was the real truth. Surely, if his parents were alive, some word must come from them.
The owners of the steamship that had been lost had never heard from any survivor. The newspapers had ceased to speak of the affair. It had become one of the many marine mysteries recorded within the last few years.
"S’pose you shouldn’t ever hear about them till you grew up, Bobby?" suggested Fred, with awe. "They’d come home, and find you grown up and living in the same house, and—"
"I wouldn’t be living there," declared Bobby, choking back that big lump that _would_ rise in his throat.
"Where’d you be?" demanded Fred, in wonder.
"When I’m big enough, I’ll go off and look for them."
"I’d search all over South America. Maybe some bad tribe of natives has them. I’ll find and rescue them," said Bobby, nodding his head.
"Scubbity-_yow_!" cried the ever enthusiastic Fred. "That’ll be great. I’ll go with you, and we’ll hide in the jungle, and catch a native and make him show us the way to the village where the captives are held.
"Crickey, Bobby! you’d make out you were a magician, and you’d have a storage battery, and things, and you’d show them blackies more magic than they ever saw before, and they’ll kill their old medicine man and make you chief of the tribe.