From what I hear of your brother, he generally refers to his own plucky, capable actions as jokes.

Other people call them something else." She did not answer, but continued to gaze at the half-submerged "leader," with the pine bough tied at its landward end to mark the edge of deep water, and the tide foaming through its lath gratings.
"Your brother--" went on the minister.
"He isn't my brother," she interrupted absently.

"I wish he was." She sighed as she uttered the last sentence.
"No, of course he isn't your real brother; I forgot.

But he must seem like one." "Yes," rather doubtfully.
"You must be proud of him." "I am." There was nothing doubtful this time.
"Well, he saved me from drowning.

I'm almost certain of that." "I'm so glad." She seemed to mean it.