“Very comic,” she mimicked. “You’re doin’ well. But as I’m goin’ to get you both in the end you might as well light yourself a cigarette and confess everything. And I may let you off altogether if you flatter me a little. I’m very susceptible to kind words. There’s your cue, man. Now, go on with your tale.”
In a very straightforward manner he told her the whole story from the accidental meeting with Jerry on board the Victoria at Naples up to the complication made by Walter’s outbreak.
As the story developed, Phœbe gradually lost her chipper attitude. There was something terribly convincing about the Walter episode. She knew all about that threat to do away with himself; it had been made to her, too, and it had taken all her diplomacy to put a right attitude in the boy and start him off on his trip with the mother freed from much of his unnatural antipathy. But secretly she had always believed that Walter’s threats were idle boasts. The reality frightened her, for Richard made no attempt either to minimize or magnify the determined struggle of the boy to end his mixed-up life on the stern of the steamer.
“Well,” she drew in a deep breath, “you may be featherin’ your nest or not; all I say is you’ve earned the right to do what you please up at the Big House. As far as you are concerned, Mr. What-ever-your-name-is, I resign; but I’ll keep my eye on your Jawn friend a little longer, if you don’t mind.”
Richard smoked away for a while in great contentment.
“Do you know, Phœbe,” he turned to her chummily, “I really may be feathering my nest, as you call it; and without ever intending to perform that delicate operation.”
“I guess you’re old enough to know your way about.” She busied herself clearing away the lunch dishes.
“Age doesn’t help at that,” he said, “it hinders. The older you grow the more sure you seem; but you fool yourself.... I’m sure I don’t know why I do anything.”
“You didn’t come all the way to Penn Yan on a wild-goose chase. Don’t tell me that.”
“That’s life exactly,” he said, “a wild-goose chase.”