“Get away from that painter!” I commanded. “You forced your company on me today—I didn’t invite you to go fishing—”
“The sloop’s as much mine as yours,” he growled.
“I’d like to know how you figure that out?” returned I, in amazement.
“When your mother bought it she told father it was for us to use together; but of course you always ‘hog’ everything.”
Now I knew that my mother never would have said what he claimed; but I was angry with her for the moment because of her good natured invitation to Paul to use my personal property. The Wavecrest was my dearest possession. As the saying is, there was more salt water in my veins than blood; our folks had all been sailors—my father’s people, I mean—and I was enamored of the sea and sea-going.
When mother built our summer cottage on the Neck I knew how ’twould be. I foresaw that her brother-in-law and his son (Aunt Alice was dead some years then) would live with us about half the time; but that mother should have said anything to give Paul ground for his statement, rasped me sorely.
“Let me tell you, Paul Downes,” said I, sharply, “that no person has any right in this boat but myself, unless I invite them; and I’ll inform you right now that this is the last trip you’ll ever take in her with my permission.”
“Is that so?” sneered Paul.
“That’s so—and you can make the best of it.”
“Well, who wants to go out in your old tub?” he burst forth. “Goodness knows, I don’t. But I’m going ashore right now and you can come in when you like.”