She had very many comforting thoughts as she reclined and reviewed her European tour. Except for a single outbreak at the beginning of the trip Walter had been docile and willing. Her control of his mind, she congratulated herself, was as simple as running an electric runabout. She had always had a hypnotic influence over her family, but never before had she known its full power. Whatever she had set her mind to she had achieved, and, she was glad to assure herself, the reclaiming of her son was another victory.
To her intense astonishment her reverie was broken by the appearance of Geraldine in slippers and a kimono. To be sure the kimono was an elaborate thing that might have passed as a gown, and the hair had been wound around and around until it could pass for being “up”; and the ship was not lighted as it would be on the sea. But why should she be prowling about—prowling was just the word—and so wide awake after such a painful evidence of somnolency? Could she be looking for her mother?—No. It was a gentleman she nudged and awoke. Mrs. Wells heard the apology and saw Geraldine move on and glance into the face of another man who had found the deck more comfortable than below stairs. Geraldine passed quickly by and merged into a dark group of men forward.
What sort of goings-on was this? Could Geraldine be walking in her sleep? Mrs. Wells half arose as if to follow, but decided that that was not in her rôle. She would not spy; she would wait.
Meanwhile Geraldine had moved quietly from one end of the boat to the other in the hope of finding “Richard.” Ordinarily some sort of explanation could satisfy the mother. There had been nothing extraordinary in her little adventure; but the entrance of Walter spelled trouble. He had a dramatic fashion of causing trouble in unexpected ways. The mother’s calm justice would be disturbed and injustice might easily follow.
Geraldine reached the smoking-room, peered in at the assembled card-players, but just a half-minute too late. If her eyes could have distinguished a quarter length of the deck, she would have observed the tall figure of Richard moving towards bed.
So reluctantly she gave up and went below, promising herself an early promenade and a careful look-out.
Loud voices in her corridor gave her a chill of apprehension. Before her door she found her mother and Walter. The boy was disgustingly drunk; and he was ugly.
“Won’t be bossed any more!” he announced with a string of dirty oaths. “I’m through!” he shouted, “through with naggin’ and bein’ pushed into this and into that.”
With the help of a steward they managed finally to get him to bed in Geraldine’s room, Geraldine sharing with her mother an adjoining compartment. Even with the aid of the ship’s doctor and an able-bodied steward the two women put in an awful night.