“You got it. Jim.”
“Aw, Old Top; Jim, so long; hello.”
“Will you listen to the vocabulary. Ain’t that marvelous!”
“It ain’t,” Jim scowled, then he pointed to Bob. “Bob,” he explained. The boy seemed to understand that it was some sort of introduction.
“It ain’t Bob?”
“Yes it is,” Bob insisted, pointing to himself. “Bob.”
“Bob? Jim?”
“Great,” they both nodded gleefully. “You’re a regular chatterbox.”
The boy repeated the words he had learned and seemed to enjoy the sound of them. Then he stood a moment, straight as a young sapling, the expression on his face changed to a sober one, and into his deep, fine eyes, came a thoughtful look, which seemed to be habitual to them. As they met his gaze, any desire they might have had to have fun with him, disappeared, and the step-brothers felt a strong urge inside them to befriend this young foreigner.
“Bet my share of Her Highness against a plugged dime that he’d make a great pal,” Jim remarked.