“No, no,” says my respected friend, “not you.  Not him, Major, you understand?”

“No, no,” says I.

“And he went to school in Rutlandshire—­”

“Why not Lincolnshire?” says my respected friend.

“Why not, you dear old Gran?  Because I go to school in Lincolnshire, don’t I?”

“Ah, to be sure!” says my respected friend.  “And it’s not Jemmy, you understand, Major?”

“No, no,” says I.

“Well!” our boy proceeded, hugging himself comfortably, and laughing merrily (again in confidence with the fire), before he again looked up in Mrs. Lirriper’s face, “and so he was tremendously in love with his schoolmaster’s daughter, and she was the most beautiful creature that ever was seen, and she had brown eyes, and she had brown hair all curling beautifully, and she had a delicious voice, and she was delicious altogether, and her name was Seraphina.”

“What’s the name of your schoolmaster’s daughter, Jemmy?” asks my respected friend.

“Polly!” replied Jemmy, pointing his forefinger at her.  “There now!  Caught you!  Ha, ha, ha!”

When he and my respected friend had had a laugh and a hug together, our admittedly remarkable boy resumed with a great relish: 

“Well!  And so he loved her.  And so he thought about her, and dreamed about her, and made her presents of oranges and nuts, and would have made her presents of pearls and diamonds if he could have afforded it out of his pocket-money, but he couldn’t.  And so her father—­O, he WAS a Tartar!  Keeping the boys up to the mark, holding examinations once a month, lecturing upon all sorts of subjects at all sorts of times, and knowing everything in the world out of book.  And so this boy—­”

“Had he any name?” asks my respected friend.

“No, he hadn’t, Gran.  Ha, ha!  There now!  Caught you again!”

After this, they had another laugh and another hug, and then our boy went on.

“Well!  And so this boy, he had a friend about as old as himself at the same school, and his name (for He had a name, as it happened) was—­let me remember—­was Bobbo.”

“Not Bob,” says my respected friend.

“Of course not,” says Jemmy.  “What made you think it was, Gran?  Well!  And so this friend was the cleverest and bravest and best-looking and most generous of all the friends that ever were, and so he was in love with Seraphina’s sister, and so Seraphina’s sister was in love with him, and so they all grew up.”

“Bless us!” says my respected friend.  “They were very sudden about it.”