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Updated: May 16, 2025
Ronald was plainly afire with enthusiastic admiration of his hero; but for once Margot refused to be infected. "I'm not a worm!" she murmured resentfully. "Worm, indeed! I'm every bit as good as he!" For twenty yards she walked on in silence, tilting her chin in petulant scorn. Then "Do you remember the old story of Johnny-head-in-air, Ron?" she asked mischievously. "He had a fall.
Unless" with an upward look of returning intelligence "but that ain't very likely either unless it should be Darcy Faircloth. I'd clean forgot him, so I had. Cap'en Faircloth, as some is so busy calling 'im, now, in season and out of season till it's fairly fit to make you laugh. Remarkable tall, Johnny-head-in-air young feller with a curly yaller beard to him." "That's the man!" Tom exclaimed.
"I'm perfectly certain all this cocksure Johnny-head-in-air business, 'sail to-day and see you again at tea tomorrow, so it's not worth while saying good-by' you know the style? is fatuous and idiotic. It is not bluff, because the English officer-man doesn't bluff. He hasn't the brains, to begin with, and then he is a very sound sort of an animal.
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