Then Aunty May told me that she had begun to get worried and so had
Aunty Edith, knowing that Mr. Garry was an absent-minded beggar. Aunty
Edith had gone up to Mr. Turner's to find if he was home, but Aunty May
had insisted on going out in the canoe, though Mr. Taylor didn't like
her to alone, and Mr. Taylor had gone down the towpath, toward the
village, looking for us. Well, wasn't Aunty May mad when she found out
how long I'd been alone and how badly I'd wanted her. She just paddled
as fast as she could, and all the time pretended that we were wild
savages who would catch Mr. Garry and put him on a desert island, just
to see how he'd like it.

As we got nearer our house there were lights along the river-bank, and
we called and a big boat came up to us, and in it was Mr. Garry, with a
very white face, and Mr. Turner and Aunty Edith, and she was crying so
hard that she couldn't see me at first.

When Aunty May said, "Don't cry, Edith, he's here," and handed me over,
she gave me such a hard squeeze that I couldn't speak for a minute.

Mr. Garry all the time kept saying, "Say, old chap, I'm sorry, but I am
such an absent-minded beggar." Aunty May said, "Yes, but you'll never
have a chance to get absent-minded with this boy again."

He looked terribly sorry, and begged my pardon again, and I told him,
"It was all right, only I didn't care to play Robinson Crusoe so
truthfully--at night."

They hurried me up to the house and gave me warm things to eat and
drink, and let me stay up longer than usual.