Jack loves his mother, and that is why the naggin’s reach right through the little blue jacket and touches his heart. And the tremblin’ onhappiness of the heart makes the blue eyes shet about half up in a forlorn way, and the red lips quiver. I’ve seen ’em. Why, good land! Jack hain’t much more than a baby anyway, only about six and a half years old. He’s a stout little feller, and most always wears a dark blue cloth suit with a little sailor hat sot kinder back on his curls if he puts it on himself. And I don’t want to see a better lookin’ boy than Jack is. His father is my cousin on my own side.

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