Dick and Dolly felt their admiration rising for this boy, who knew so much about climbing gourds and flowers of all sorts. It was strange that he could throw stones so straight, and also have such fine parlour manners. So very strange indeed that Dick felt he must inquire into it.
“Say,” he began; “you’re awful different out here from what you are in the parlour.”
“Sure,” returned Jack. “In parlours, with ladies, a fellow has to be polite and proper. You don’t want me to be like that out here with you, do you?”
Jack’s face expressed such a willingness to do what was required of him that Dick exclaimed hastily:
“Not on your life! But I don’t see how you manage those fine airs when you have to.”
“Pooh, it’s dead easy. Anyway, I’ve always done it. Mamma wouldn’t like it if I didn’t.”
“I s’pose we’ll have to learn,” said Dolly, sighing a little; “but don’t let’s bother about it now.”
As the afternoon wore on, and they became better acquainted, they both began to like Jack very much. He was not a strong boy, and couldn’t run or jump as they could, but he was clever at games, and could beat them easily at “knife,” or “hop-scotch,” or almost any game of muscular skill that did not call for violent exercise.
“He’s all right,” said Dick to Dolly as they sat on the veranda steps a few minutes after Jack went home. “But I hope we won’t always have to dress up, and sit in the parlour at first every time he comes.”
“Let’s ask Aunt Rachel,” said Dolly.