"I went out for a little sail. I thought it would be a nice thing to do, the sea was so smooth and calm. A--a man was out swimming near me, and he climbed into my boat. I ordered him out, and--and he jumped out, and--I upset. He swam off--leaving me in the water--and the boatman had to come out and bring me in. Oh, mamma!--I'm the talk of the place!"
Mrs. Heth took two swift strides into the room. She came like a cat, claws out, ready to pounce. Her splendid hair hung loose about her head, revealing the birthmark upon the temple, a round spot the size of a silver half-dollar. Ordinarily dull pink, this spot was slowly mottling in blues and purples: though evidently not with reference to the perils of the deep, so narrowly escaped by her only child.
"The talk of the place!--what do you mean?" she asked in a voice that sounded dangerous. "A man!--what man? Speak? What right did he have to get into your boat?"
"Of course he had no right to get into my boat, mamma," said Carlisle, dribbling water. "None whatever. That is what I told him, from the beginning. His name is Dalhousie. I--that part makes no dif--"
"Dalhousie! Colonel Dalhousie's son!--that young sot! Why, you don't know him, do you?--you never met him in your life--"
"Please don't storm and rant, mamma. It only makes things worse. As I was saying, when you interrupted, I--I met this man once--a long time ago. Some one introduced him, I suppose. That must have been it. I--I've never seen him from that time. He hadn't the faintest right to get into my boat--not the faintest. He--"
"But what did he do it for? What did he want? What was his purpose, I say?"
Carlisle turned away with a wet skirt to hang. It was certainly very difficult to explain things to mamma.
"Oh, mamma!--How can I tell you why he wanted to get into my boat? All this just wastes time. Perhaps he thought he would have a little flirtation. Perhaps he wanted to rest from his--"
"What did he say when he got in? He didn't just step on like you were a street car, did he? Speak up! What ex--"