“That is possible,” replied Walsh, after a moment of deliberation.
“Wayne could do anything he wanted to—lead forlorn hopes, command a battleship, preach a sermon, run a coal mine, or sell a gold brick. The Scotch in him is pretty sound yet. He’s a free spender, but he has his thrifty side.”
“Um—yes. Wayne has brains.”
“Why don’t you take him in hand, Walsh, and teach him how to work?”
After a prolonged silence Walsh asked dryly:
“Why?”
“Because the Colonel has failed at it.”
The two men looked at each other fixedly for a moment.
“He tried hard enough. He’s disappointed in Wayne.”
Walsh spoke as though he were repeating an accepted opinion rather than voicing his own thought. Wingfield caught him up.