on second thoughts I have decided just to mention him and pass on as quickly as possible. I always think it is best to be candid, and when you have got an obnoxious step-brother, named Tony, aged seven, to own up to him right away. Tony, I am bound to say, has as little love for me as I have for him, though why that should be I am sure I cannot say, since I never slap him or speak severely to him—except when he thoroughly deserves it. Only that very morning he had been particularly provoking.
'Father will be made a peer soon,' he had said jeeringly, as he had said fifty times before, 'then I shall be the Honourable, but you won't,' pointing his finger at me rudely. 'You'll never be Honourable.'
Now owing to the fundamental laws of the British Constitution this was true, and therefore more especially annoying. I don't at all mind confessing that I should dearly love to be the Honourable if I can't get anything better. I am not often, however, provoked into a retort when Tony refers to this, but that morning I had been.
'You forget the proverb "Handsome is as handsome does,"' I said impressively, though feeling that the saying was rather trite.
Tony chuckled.
'Oh my!' he sniggered, retreating first to a safe distance like the little coward he is, 'I'd go and try and do something handsome then if I was you.'
What could one do to a boy like that save ignore him—whenever he would let you. There were
