"Scarfe's a jolly enough chap, but he's up to too many dodges, don't you know?
And he's dead on Raby, too.

Quite as dead as you are, Jeff." "Percy, a fortnight's congestion has not cured you of the bad habit of talking nonsense," said Jeffreys.
"All very well, you old humbug, but you know you are, aren't you ?" "Your cousin is very good and kind, and no one could help liking her.
Everybody is `dead on her,' as you call it, even Walker." Percy enjoyed this, and allowed himself to be led off the dangerous topic.

He was allowed to sit up for the first time this day, and held a small _levee_ in his room.
Jeffreys took the opportunity to escape for a short time to the library, which he had scarcely been in since the day on the mountain.
He knew Mrs Rimbolt would enjoy her visit to the sick-chamber better without him, and he decidedly preferred his beloved books to her majestic society.
Percy, however, was by no means satisfied with the arrangement.
"Where's old Jeff ?" said he presently, when his mother, Raby, and he were left alone.

"Raby, go and tell Jeff, there's a brick.

You can bet he's in the library.