ove of truth and justice. He had met no such man as yet in
the course of his experience, and he had an instinctive liking for a
gentleman. He hung fondly by his godfather's side, and it was his
delight to walk in the parks and hear Dobbin talk. William told George
about his father, about India and Waterloo, about everything but
himself. When George was more than usually pert and conceited, the
Major made jokes at him, which Mrs. Osborne thought very cruel. One
day, taking him to the play, and the boy declining to go into the pit
because it was vulgar, the Major took him to the boxes, left him there,
and went down himself to the pit. He had not been seated there very
long before he felt an arm thrust under his and a dandy little hand in
a kid glove squeezing his arm. George had seen the absurdity of his
ways and come down from the upper region. A tender laugh of
benevolence lighted up old Dobbin's face and eyes as he looked at the
repentant little prodigal. He loved the boy, as he did everything that
belonged to Amelia. How charmed she was when she heard of this
instance of George's goodness! Her eyes looked more kindly on Dobbin
than they ever had done. She blushed, he thought, after looking at him
so.

Georgy never tired of his praises of the Major to his mother. "I like
him, Mamma, because he knows such lots of things; and he ain't like old
Veal, who is always bragging and using such long words, don't you know?
The chaps call him 'Longtail' at school. I gave him the name; ain't it
capital? But Dob reads Latin like English, and French and that; and
when we go out together he tells me stories about my Papa, and never
about himself; though I heard Colonel Buckler, at Grandpapa's, say that
he was one of the bravest officers in the army, and had distinguished
himself ever so much. Grandpapa was quite surprised, and said, 'THAT
feller! Why, I didn't think he could say Bo to a goose'--but I know he
could, couldn't he, Mamma?"

Emmy laughed: she thought it was very likely the Major could do thus
much.

If there was a sincere liking between George and the Major, it must be
confessed that between the boy and his uncle no great love existed.
George had got a way of blowing out his cheeks, and putting his hands
in his waistcoat pockets, and saying, "God bless my soul, you don't say
so," so exactly after the fashion of old Jos that it was impossible to
refrain from laughter. The servants would explode at dinne