“Don’t let anybody make you feel like a fool, Tommy boy; not even the Good Citizen—or the character architect. You’re all to the good, Tommy, only you don’t know it.”
“I know what you mean by that, you mean Audry Ferris. But I’ll tell you one thing, I’ve learned a lot from her.”
“Fine.”
“She doesn’t know you, that’s the trouble with her,” persisted Tom generously. “She doesn’t know how generous and friendly and all that you are. You never tell anybody anything about your history. Why, she didn’t even know you had a wound till I told her. She hasn’t found you out as I have.”
“That’s where you’re smarter than she is,” said Ned.
“I’d just like her to see that wound,” said Tom.
“Oh, she’s too busy loving her country,” said Whalen. “She’s a nice little girl, Tommy, but Mirandy is my favorite.”
Whalen, quiet, ironical, modest and reticent, knew full well of Tom’s liking and admiration for him, for Tom was anxious to show this at every opportunity.
Perhaps it was because Tom had another friendship which he cherished that he felt so ready to acknowledge his fondness and admiration for this taciturn, lonesome man. Being rich in joy he could afford to be open-hearted. He never asked himself where his heart really lay; it was enough to be so opulent in friendships.
Ned Whalen had no friends save Tom. His fancy for the youngster who had been thrown with him was very strong and Tom’s cheery nature and unsophisticated squint seemed to furnish a measure of amusement in his silent, weary life. All the men liked him but he seemed to stand apart as a sort of looker on.