“That’s great!” he said with warm friendliness. “You’ll look fine.”
Pegeen beamed upon him. “I knew you’d be glad,” she said. “This is Mr. Archibald, Jimmy. I’m seeing to him.”
The grin on the boy’s face widened to show more of his white teeth. There was something refreshingly wholesome about the soundness and whiteness of those teeth, the amplitude of the grin, the clear frankness of the eyes, the tanned ruddiness of the skin, the sturdiness of his two brown legs.
“I guess you’ll get seen to all right, if Peg’s on the job,” he said.
“Come down and see us, Jimmy,” urged Pegeen.
“Yes, do. Come down and go fishing with me,” added Archibald, and then wondered at himself for having said it. He had never cared for small boys—nor for small girls. Come to think of it, he had never really known any.
“All right. I’ll show you some dandy pools.” Jimmy’s acceptance was prompt and blithe. He was used to comradeship and confident that Peg wouldn’t vouch for an undesirable.
“He’s the nicest boy,” Archibald’s companion explained as they drove away. “Mostly they pester, you know, but Jimmy doesn’t. He treats you as if you were another boy ’n’ when you can’t do things, he sort of pretends it’s because you don’t want to ’n’ the other boys don’t dare be horrid when he’s around ’cause he can do most everything better than they can, and he licked every single one of them—when he first came. He said he didn’t do it because he was mad, but just to show them and get it over.”
“He hasn’t always lived here then?” asked Archibald.
“Oh, no. He just stays with his grandfather and grandmother. His father married again down in New York ’n’ I guess Jimmy missed his mother ’n’ then his father didn’t think cities were good for boys, ’n’ old Mrs. Dawes adores Jimmy, ’n’ so he’s going to live here for awhile. Mr. Colby—the minister, you know—teaches him queer things like Latin and algebra ’n’ some day he’ll have to go away and be educated and rich.”