"It all comes of his staying away so long," said his father. "I always told him to hurry back, and just see how long he stayed this time. If he can't come back in less than six months or six years or heaven knows how long, he'd better not go at all." "Oh," said his mother, "I'm sure he'll come back promptly after this." "I couldn't," said Freddie. "It took such a long time to get to the Island, and there was all the trouble with the pirates, and it was a terrible long journey before we got to the palace, and of course we couldn't run away from the queen after we'd gone all that long way with her, and the queen's children didn't want me to go anyway, and there wasn't any way to get back, except for finding out how to get to the top of the tower, and maybe I wouldn't have got back at all if I hadn't met the Old Man of the Mountain, and got sick and cured again by Mr. Punch's father, and I might have got drowned when the ship disappeared, or I might have had my head cut off by the pirates, and then you wouldn't have seen me any more, and you'd have been sorry." His father looked at his mother, and nodded his head. "He'd better stay in bed today," said he. "We won't talk to him about it until tomorrow." "Yes," said his mother, "that will be much better. Poor little Freddie!" Freddie did not know why he should be called poor, but he was still tired from the adventurous life he had recently lived, and he was very glad to remain in bed all day. The next morning, after his father had said good-bye for the day, his mother allowed him to get up, and a little later to go out into the sunshine. He strolled down the street, enjoying the familiar sights after his long absence. He found his legs a little weak; he must have been very ill indeed at the King's palace, and he could not expect to get over it in one day. He crossed the street-car track, and on the pavement before the church he saw a well-known figure. The Churchwarden was sitting in his chair tilted back against the wall, smoking a long pipe and reading a newspaper. As Freddie approached he put down his paper and looked at him over his spectacles. "Good morning," said he. "I'm glad to see you back again. I hear you've been away." And he winked his eye at Freddie in a very knowing manner. "Yes, sir," said Freddie. "I guess I must have been pretty sick." "No doubt about it, my son. But of course I knew all the time you'd pull through." Freddie did not believe it for a moment; obviously the Churchwarden was bragging. "The street looks pretty good," said Freddie, "after being away so long. Would you rather sit here on the pavement than do anything else?" "I believe you, son. I'd rather sit here on a sunny day with a pipe and a newspaper than have all the treasure of the Incas." Freddie was glad to hear that the Churchwarden did not regret the loss of his share of the treasure, though whether Captain Lingo belonged to the Incas he did not know.