“He’s quite amazing,” Jo answered. “Isn’t he, Jean? Frightfully grown-up, and I should think he’s had rather too much of his own way all his life.”
“His manners are lovely,” Jean said. “You should have seen him eating peaches, Mother—they were the really-drippy sort that ordinary people like Jo and me can only eat with comfort in a bath, or in the middle of a fifty-acre paddock; but he managed it without turning a hair, and I don’t think there’s one spot on his coat!”
“Remarkably prehensile action with his tongue,” grinned Jo. “I’m going to practise it—in private. The weird part was that it hardly interfered with his remarks at all!”
“It would take years of practice before I could eat a peach and talk at the same time—except to you,” said Jean. “It’s one of those occasions when the strain of society is a bit too much. But Rex isn’t like any small boy I ever met.”
“I’m rather leaning back against the fact that he’s Helen’s brother,” Jo remarked. “Anyone belonging to Helen must be all right. And of course he’s had lots of drawbacks.”
“He does not seem quite a natural small boy,” said Mrs. Weston. “But Billy will make him natural, if it’s humanly possible. So don’t worry, girls.”
Meanwhile, Billy and Rex, having looked each other over after the fashion of young puppies who meet for the first time, had strolled together into the orchard. They kept some distance apart, and exchanged sidelong glances, looking very much as if they wished to growl. Conversation flagged. Billy paused presently under a laden apricot tree.
“Have one?” he asked, jerking his head upwards.
“Yes, thanks,” Rex answered. They browsed awhile in silence.
“Not many good ones left near the ground,” remarked Billy. “Come on up the tree.”