Gentlemen must be over twenty like Father or Mr.Jellybrand." "I hate Mr.Jellybrand and I hate you," replied Jeremy.
"I don't care," said Helen.
"Yes, you do," said Jeremy, then suddenly, as though even a good quarrel were not worth while on this heavily burdened afternoon, he said gently: "You might play Pirates, Helen.

You can be Sir Roger." "I've got this to finish." "It's a dirty old thing," continued Jeremy, pursuing an argument, "and it'll be dirtier soon, and the Jampot says you do all the stitches wrong.

I wish I was at school." "I wish you were," said Helen.
There was a pause after this.

Jeremy went sadly back to his window-seat.
Mary felt that her moment had arrived.

Sniffing, as was her habit when she wanted something very badly, she said in a voice that was little more than a whisper: "It would be fun, wouldn't it, perhaps if I read something, Jeremy ?" Jeremy was a gentleman, although he was only eight.