What mattered it what sort of clothes he wore, or where he had escaped from--a family on a desert island or from a pirate crew?
She had him, and her happiness knew no bounds.

Dickory was perfectly willing to stay with her and to talk to her.

He did not care to be with anybody else, not even with Mistress Kate, who had taken so much interest in him all the time he had been away; though, of course, not so much interest as his own dear mother.
Then the good Dame Charter, being greatly recovered and so happy, began to talk of herself.

Slipping in a disjointed way over her various experiences, she told her dear boy, in strictest confidence, that she was very much disappointed in the way pirates took ships.

She thought it was going to be something very exciting that she would remember to the end of her days, and wake up in the middle of the night and scream when she thought of it, but it was nothing of the kind; not a shot was fired, not a drop of blood shed; there was not even a shout or a yell or a scream for mercy.