Rupert rolls his eyes at her quick, then steadies 'em down and blinks solemn. Kind of weird, starey eyes, them buttermilk blue panes of his are.
"I—I don't say much about it, as a rule," says he, droppin' his eyelids modest.
"There!" exclaims Mrs. Mumford. "I just knew it was so. One daring adventure after another, I suppose, with no thought of fear."
"Oh, I've been afraid plenty of times," says Rupert, "but somehow I— Well, I've gone on."
"Isn't he splendid?" asks Mrs. Mumford, turnin' to us. "Just like a hero in a book! But we would like to know from the very beginning. As a boy, now?"
"There wasn't much," protests Rupert. "You see, I lived in a little town in southern Illinois. Father ran a general store. I had to help in it—sold shingle nails, molasses, mower teeth, overalls. How I hated that! But there was the creek and the muck pond. I had an old boat. I played smuggler and pirate. I used to love to read pirate books. I wanted to go to sea."
"So you ran away and became a sailor," adds Mrs. Mumford, clappin' her hands enthusiastic.
"I planned to lots of times," says Rupert, "but father made me go through the academy. Then afterwards I had to teach school—in a rough district. Once some big boys tried to throw me into a snowdrift. We had a terrible fight."
"It must have been awful," says Mrs. Mumford. "Those big, brutal boys! I can just see them. Did—did you kill any of them?"
"I hit one on the nose quite hard," says Rupert. "Then, of course, I had to give up teaching. I meant to start off for sea that winter, but father was taken sick. Lungs, you know. So we sold out the store and bought a place down in Florida, an orange grove. It was on the west coast, near the Gulf.