"Ah, no doubt I should have done something; you're right there. But tell me what it's all about? Whatever will mummy say about it! And what do you suppose your little angel-sister thinks of you if she is looking at you now?"
The thought of the "little angel-sister" did not distress him much; but at the mention of "mummy" his grief broke out afresh.
"But you won't tell her, will you? And you'll mend my jacket for me, won't you?" taking his arms down from her neck to show the ugly rent by the pocket.
"Not tell mummy? Keep anything from mummy? Why, Jack, what can you be thinking about? She would not like her boy to have any trouble she did not share. And if you have done wrong all that she will do will be to give you advice that might help you another time."
"I know, I know," and the voice was a little fretful, an unusual thing for Jack, "but you don't understand: it's because it would make mummy cry I don't want her to know."
"Well, tell me all about it, and then I shall understand."
"And you won't tell her?"
Nanna felt to be in a difficulty, and had to think. Jack saw the difficulty she was in, and, like the chivalrous little fellow he was, helped her out of it by saying, "I'll tell you first, and then I know you'll say she mustn't know, and Janie must not know," getting down from her knee and shutting the door—"nobody must know."
Resuming his seat, and with one arm round her neck, he told out his little tale of woe, the tale that was so big to him. A fresh boy had come to his school whose displeasure he had won by obstinately keeping at the top of the class, a position keenly coveted by the new boy, whose name was Frank Bell.
Knowing of no other invective he could hurl at his rival, Frank tried this one: "You're no good; you've no business among respectable boys. Your mother's a wicked woman, and that's why your father can't live with her. My ma says so; I heard her."