"Not a bit," declared Jeremy's sister. "He's as good as gold, though a bit faint-hearted. You'll have to make him take himself more serious, Jane."
John Henry interrupted them. He returned with two small trout, which his mother faithfully promised to eat; and then came Peter from the kennels.
"They are praying for the holidays to come," said Margery. "My boys both hate their books you must know; and Jacob don't care over-much, because they're both so clear in their minds what they're wishful to be."
"That's a great thing," said Jane.
"It is then."
Peter resembled his father, while John Henry was said to be like his grandfather Bullstone. Both, so Jacob held, were true Bullstones—strong, self-reliant and determined. They grew fast, worked harder at home than at school, and longed for the time when they might begin life seriously—the elder on the land, the younger at his father's business.
"Peter's got the love of dogs in him on both sides," explained Peter's mother, "for I always did love the creatures, and so does Jacob; and John Henry loves farming."
Her husband, for whom they waited, appeared, and calling Jeremy, who strolled in the garden with his nieces, they went in to dinner.
Jacob Bullstone had grown stouter, but he was very active still and did the work of a man of fifty without sparing himself. His dark hair began to grizzle and his face showed lines, but he preserved his health, lived in the old way and as yet indulged none of the temptations of middle life.
He chaffed Jeremy, but was in an amiable mood.