"And what about Jack Dobson?"

"Oh, Oliver, what have you got your best clothes on for?"

"Because I got wet through catching a great jack. But never mind my best
clothes. How did Jack look in his uniform?"

"A lot better than Lord Brocton, or anyone else there, if you must know,"
she said, jerking the words at me, with her cheeks near the colour of her
hair.

"Can he talk sense yet?"

"He talked like the modest gentleman he is," said my mother, "and looked
nearly as handsome as my own boy. He sent his loving greetings to you, and
would fain have come to see you but his duties would not allow of it."

Of course my gibes at Jack were all purely foolish and jealous, and,
moreover, I could now afford to be truthful; so I said, "If Jack doesn't
do better, as well as look better, than my Lord Brocton, I'll thrash him
soundly when he gets back. But he will. He's a rare one is Master Jack,
and by a long chalk the pluckiest soul, boy or man, I've ever come across.
And he'll learn sense, of the sort he wants, as fast as anybody when the
time comes."

"Of course the lad will," said mother, taking off her long cloak, and
Kate, when mother turned to hang it on its accustomed hook, gave a swift
peck at my cheek with her lips, and whispered, "You dear old Noll!"