"What in thunder did I say to change your opinion of me?" The strong west wind blowing around him and lifting the roughened red hair from his forehead, appeared to lessen by contrast the breezy animation of his manner.
"It wasn't anything you said," she answered simply. "I found out you were different from what I thought, that is all."
"Then you must have thought something!" he laughed aloud.
"I was afraid at first that you might have a bad influence over Archibald."
"Oh, the kid!" His mirth was as irrepressible as his energy.
"You see I have to be very careful," she went on gently. "I want to do my best by him."
At this he turned on her with sudden earnestness. "You can't do your best by being too careful—take my word for it. If you want him to be a man, don't begin by making a mollycoddle of him. Let him rough it a bit, or it will be twice as hard for him when he grows up."
"But I do—I do. I am sending him away from me. Isn't that right?"
"You bet it is. Let him learn his own strength. I've lived among men ever since I was born, and I tell you, nine times out of ten, the boy who is tied to his mother's apron-strings, loses his grip when he is turned out into the world. At the first knock-down he goes under."
Instinctively she flinched. If only he wouldn't!