He doesn’t live around here. I’m not sure where he is anymore. I haven’t seen him in years.”

“What’s his name?” asked the boy, still scowling in the dark. “Where did you meet him?”

“His name is Jack Valiant,” said Jennifer, her voice still dreamy. “I met him when I was nine, that time I went away up in New England to stay with my old nurse, Kirsty MacCarra, that time just after Heather was born when Mother was so ill. You wouldn’t remember that, you were only a little kid then.”

“I wasn’t so small,” said Jerry with dignity. “I remember when you got back. You seemed like a strange person. But get on with your story. What’s that got to do with this Jack Valiant?”

“Oh,” laughed Jennifer, “he was just a boy who lived next door to Kirsty, up on an old stony farm on the mountain. He brought milk down to Kirsty’s every night. But he was polite and nice to me as if I had been quite grown-up. I remember thinking Daddy must have been like that when he was a boy. Daddy was always polite, even to children. Even to servants.”

“And have you never seen him since then?”

“No,” said Jennifer, “but I’d be sure he’d be just the same.”

“Well, I guess I don’t need to worry about him,” said her brother, “just a farmer’s boy. He’s probably a great lout by this time that you wouldn’t look at twice.”

“He was very nice-looking,” said Jennifer.

“That’s what you thought at nine,” advised the wise brother. “If you were to see him now he wouldn’t be the same.”

Jennifer was thoughtful at that.

“Maybe,” she said slowly, “but—he was going to college. He was planning for it even then. I heard him talking about it. He had to earn the money himself.”

“Well, I shan’t begin to get het up about him yet,” said Jerry easily. “Time enough if he ever comes into the picture again. I’ll concentrate on Pete. He’s all I can handle at once.”

“Well, I don’t suppose you need worry about him. I was just a little girl. He never was anything to me. He took me fishing once to the brook, and he brought me a gray kitten to play with, but that was all. I was just thinking that perhaps there were a few boys like Daddy. I don’t believe there are many.”

They were silent for a few thoughtful moments, and then Jennifer spoke. “You don’t really remember Kirsty, do you, Jerry? Kirsty was wonderful!”

“Yes, I remember Kirsty!” said the young man. “She used to make strings of paper dolls and soldiers out of the edges of the newspaper, and stand them up on the table and blow them away.”

Jennifer smiled.

“Yes, I remember,” she said, “and how we used to laugh when they went whirling down on the floor! Mother used to say she was the best nurse we ever had.