"I'm grateful, Dad," said Lewis. "It's easier to breathe that way."
Leighton nodded. "Sometimes," He continued, "I feel guilty, as though it were cowardly not to have lived where I was put. But—have you ever seen a straw, caught on a snag, try to stop a river? To your sentimentalist that straw looks heroic; to anybody that knows the difference between bathos and pathos it simply looks silly. The river of life is bigger than that of any nation. We can't stop it, but we can swell it by going with it. Did you ever see a mule drink against the current?"
"No," said Lewis, his eyes lighting with memory of a thing that he knew.
"Did you ever see free cattle face a gale?"
"No," said Lewis again.
"Out of the mouths of the dumb come words of wisdom," said Leighton. "Go with life, Boy. Don't get stranded on a snag. You'll only look silly. I'm glad you've traveled around a bit, because the wider the range of your legs the wider your range of vision, and, let me tell you, you'll need a mighty broad field of sight to take in America and the Americans.
"Your country and mine is a national paradox. It's the only country where you can't buy little things for money. For instance, you can't buy four seats that somebody else has a right to from a railway conductor for sixty-two and a half cents. There isn't any price at which you can get an American to say, 'Yes, sir, thank you, sir,' every time he does anything for you."
"Lunch is served, sir, thank you, sir," announced the impassive Nelton from the doorway.
Lewis smiled, and then laughed at his father's face.
"Nelton," said Leighton, "did you hear what I was saying?"