“It’s very stupid of you, then. You don’t know when you’ve got a good place.”
“I know when I’ve got a bad one, though.”
“The fact is,” said Jack, who had an uncomfortable habit of telling people the exact truth to their faces, “you are jealous of me because I get five shillings a week, and you only get four.”
Jem turned of an indignant scarlet.
“I’m not! I wouldn’t be in your shoes for a pound a week, if I knew it; so now, then!”
“Then you would be very selfish, for a pound a week would make you able to help mother ever so much—buy your own clothes and all sorts of things.”
“Oh, you boys! you boys!” sighed Mrs. Kayll. “Father, did you ever hear anything like them?”
“Like them! Oh, dear, yes, lots of times,” he answered in a preoccupied tone, without looking up from his work. “My brother Tom and I were just as bad at their age. I recollect, though,” he added, glancing at his boys for a minute with a twinkle in one eye, “that my father used to cane us both soundly, and send us to our bed-rooms till we apologized.”
“Oh, but we’ll apologize without that,” cried Jack laughing. “Jem, old chap, shake hands, and never mind my fun.”
Jem was quite ready, and there was peace between them for perhaps half an hour.