"Sure," said Max encouragingly. "I know jolly well he will. Uncle Dick will be game for any investigation. Only he'll have to be convinced that I'm not pulling his leg. If that north wall resounds like a tomb, I'll tow Uncle down to hark for himself. Why, man, we're getting on swimmingly! That was a mighty clever idea of yours about the dotted line. Connie'll be keen on it too, and anyway she owes me one after getting me into such a beastly mess as she did to-day. I didn't even use unkind language about it either. If the sea is decent tomorrow, I'll trot her down to the cave to see where your fresh air comes from."
"Perhaps it can be felt only when the wind is from a certain direction," observed Win.
"That's more than likely. Yesterday it was south, wasn't it? Very probably it takes a south wind to strike in there. I'm afraid we can't hope for that to-morrow because there seems a storm brewing, on purpose probably to give me a rough trip on Tuesday."
"Weren't you glad of the chance to come?" asked Win.
"I was," said Max expressively, "not only because I always like to get back to the Manor, but because I was pleased with myself to think I'd scored with this especial bit of work, a job of smoothing down an elderly ass who was inclined to be a trifle footy. You see when I decided to go in for the diplomatic service, Dad told me that he would use his influence only to get me an appointment, a try-out. After that it was up to me; if I received promotion it would be because I earned it, not because I was his son. He makes me an allowance because one really couldn't manage on the salary of an attaché, but so far as my profession goes, I stand absolutely on my own merits. So Max is feeling proud of himself just now!" he added whimsically. "So's my Dad, if my telegram reached him."
"He must be proud of you," said Win rather soberly. "I so much hope that Roger will condescend to go to Annapolis. You see I can't, and Dad would like one of us in the navy."
"Roger will wake up to a sense of his privileges some day," said Max. "Do you know, Win, some of the finest work in the world has been done by the fellows who were handicapped. Prescott, for instance, writing all his histories, blind in one eye and sometimes half crazed by pain; Milton, too, dictating to his daughters, and Scott, producing so much when he was old and burdened with grief and trouble. And Stevenson, who was ill half his life."
"But they were geniuses," said Win.
"They were also too courageous in spirit to yield to circumstances. To come down to more ordinary people, I think Uncle Dick is mighty fine. He is crippled, useless for the work he expected to grow old in; he saw his only son die for England. You have seen enough of him to know what he is and what he means not only to Laurel Manor but to the Island. I respect and admire him tremendously and I shall owe much of whatever success I score, to him as well as to Dad. There are careers open to you, Win. You are clever and have a fine mind. Roger defers to your opinion. Through your influence, he may accomplish far more than he might alone."
"I don't amount to very much with Roger. Still, I did make him square things with Fisher that day he played truant and went off with you," admitted Win with the ghost of a smile. "Mother only lectured him for bunking, but I persuaded him to apologize and to put in the next Wednesday doing the work he skipped."