"You don't think you would have come of your own accord, Ralph? No,
that is natural enough, my boy. At your, age I am sure I should not
have cared to give up my holidays and spend them in a quiet house
among strangers. However, I wanted to see you, and I am very glad you
have come. I am an old friend of your mother's, you know, and so
desired to make the acquaintance of her son. I think you are like
her," he said, putting his hand on Ralph's shoulder and taking him to
the window and looking steadily at him.

"Other people have said so, sir; but I am sure I can't [illegible
words] be like her a bit. Mother is so pretty, and I am sure I am not
the least bit in the world; and I don't think it's nice for a boy to
be like a woman."

This was rather a sore point with Ralph, who had a smooth soft face
with large eyes and long eyelashes, and who had, in consequence, been
nicknamed "Sally" by his schoolfellows. The name had stuck to him in
spite of several desperate fights, and the fact that in point of
strength and activity he was fully a match for any boy of his own age;
but as there was nothing like derision conveyed by it, and it was
indeed a term of affection rather, than of contempt, Ralph had at last
ceased to struggle against it. But he longed for the time when the
sprouting of whiskers would obliterate the obnoxious smoothness of his
face. Mr. Penfold had smiled at his remark.

"I do not like girlish boys, Ralph; but a boy can have a girlish face
and yet be a true boy all over. I fancy that's your case.

"I hope so, sir. I think I can swim or run or fight any of the chaps