It must be almost as decent
as Wrykyn out there.... I say, what's under that dish?"
CHAPTER XXX
MR. JACKSON MAKES UP HIS MIND
Two years have elapsed and Mike is home again for the Easter holidays.
If Mike had been in time for breakfast that morning he might have
gathered from the expression on his father's face, as Mr. Jackson
opened the envelope containing his school report and read the
contents, that the document in question was not exactly a paean of
praise from beginning to end. But he was late, as usual. Mike always
was late for breakfast in the holidays.
When he came down on this particular morning, the meal was nearly
over. Mr. Jackson had disappeared, taking his correspondence with him;
Mrs. Jackson had gone into the kitchen, and when Mike appeared the
thing had resolved itself into a mere vulgar brawl between Phyllis and
Ella for the jam, while Marjory, who had put her hair up a fortnight
before, looked on in a detached sort of way, as if these juvenile
gambols distressed her.
"Hullo, Mike," she said, jumping up as he entered; "here you are--I've
been keeping everything hot for you."
"Have you? Thanks awfully. I say--" his eye wandered in mild surprise
round the table. "I'm a bit late."
Marjory was bustling about, fetching and carrying for Mike, as she
always did.
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