Jeanne: Scalawag

Druce snorted, while at the same time trying to pry his hand away from the woman's washing. With the other he reached out and fondly ruffled the boy's hair, then boxed him in the ear. "We call him rascal and scalawag and imp," he said. "Why should he need another name? For that's what he is, so it is what we name him."

He listened to the dull, far-off sound of thunder, like hooves of the thick British ponies lazily roaming the sky, and threw up his head impatiently. "I'm not kneading dough with it," he complained of Domitia's thorough scrubbing.