“Why should it be anybody’s fault?” he asked. “I don’t believe in ‘faults.’ If you are a true Whitmanite there is no blame. One might as well feel guilty over cold and heat as over the acts of our nature. There’s Whitman and Spinoza rolled into one! I don’t feel conscience-stricken because my diaphragm moves up and down or because my appendix is inflamed; why should I be concerned, then, if my will takes its next appointed step and attempts to go off with you and your purse?”
“I don’t know why,” she spoke after a moment’s thought. “It’s my training, I suppose. But let us get back to Walter.... The only time that I remember when mother seriously attempted to control Walter was several years ago when she scolded him in public for something he had done in one of the sailing races. He sulked around the house for days afterward, and he never would go in the races again, although I am sure he was awfully keen for them.”
“Jove!” Richard was suddenly eager. “We’re getting warm. When was that—the exact date?”
“I can find out. I don’t know exactly; but it was the year the Tecumseh won the cup. Every other boat was either wrecked or blown ashore or filled with water. Walter was helping sail the Tecumseh. He can’t swim, you know.”
“What was the thing he did that made your mother scold him?”
“I don’t remember. Possibly I can find out. My feeling is it was something to do with the spinnaker. He used to be very clever at getting it out in just the right minute when we came about and went before the wind. But I can’t recall. All that I know is that a terrific blow came up and sent those boats on end. It ripped the masts out of two of them; and the Tecumseh was so sprung she never was the same boat again. I was time-keeper, I remember, and I know they did the twelve-knot course in less than an hour. It was a record, I think.”
“That’s fast sailing.”
“Oh, you should see those ‘Class A’ boats. They’re the fastest sailing boats built. I’m not boasting. They’re scows, you know—centre-board—and they just slide over the water. We took the inter-lake cup the next year. You must come up and have a go at it. It is fascinating sport.”
“I think I shall.” He spoke as if he had already made up his mind.
“Mother is going to ask you to pay us a visit—as a ‘professional guest.’”