She protested faintly that that would only be tempting him.
“It’s a risk, I admit,” Richard agreed. “I’ll be frank; we run a chance. But my conviction is that what that boy needs first is our faith in him. I have a bottle of whisky in my room, put there purposely to see if he would keep his word with me. He told me he wouldn’t touch it except when I—well, uh, he said he wouldn’t touch it. I had faith and put the stuff right out in the open; went off and left him alone with it. Not a drop touched!... You will do this, won’t you?... It’s part of my plan to put him on his feet.”
The splotch of white, Walter’s sail, was growing increasingly smaller; evidently he was making for the narrows which led into the main body of water.
Yes, she would do as he suggested, although it went against the grain to give in.
“Of course it does,” he cheered her; “we’re all built that way, but, let me tell you, the joy you will experience in giving up will compensate you for life. Blessed are those who occasionally give in, for they shall inherit the joy of living.”
They left Mrs. Wells silent and stationary on the porch. Down the driveway and across the State Road Jerry marched on silently. She was disturbed more than she wished to express. So she kept slightly in advance of the man and started ahead. He had achieved his little victory so easily, but he had no conception of what that surrender revealed to the daughter. She had never before seen her mother so weak, so mentally benumbed. Who in the past would have dared accost her as this guest had jauntily done? The sharp satiric tongue would have withered him; he would have been struck in a dozen vital spots before he had half been aware of any attack at all; and the indescribable “manner”—poise, bearing, what you will—would have quelled him.
But this worried woman on the porch had seemed eager to give up and get rid of a vexing gentleman. There was something very pitiful in the contrast and it filled Jerry with foreboding. She stopped as she crossed the State Road and looked back. Mrs. Wells had begun slowly to rock; soon she was going her regular pace, a sign, Richard hoped, that she had cast upon him all her burdens. Farther down the hill they could see her bobbing forward and back between the massive stolidity of “Da” and “Waga.”
Concerning her mother Jerry could not bring herself to speak aloud; nor would she disclose in feature or tone any hint of her fear. There were other things on her mind, however, which could properly be brought forth to the light of familiar conversation.
“We’ve been interrupted horribly lately,” she began. “If it keeps up I’ll be irritated and show my claws at you again.”
“I see you have claws;” but his eyes were on the steep road.