His eyes, which saw everything, were keen to detect the least changes in
the arrangement of his home, even when mere knickknacks had been moved
about. At each visit he found the house ornamented with some new trophy
of his exploits. He was delighted to find that a miniature barkentine,
which he had built with corks, paper, and thread when he was seven years
old, still stood on his mother's mantelpiece. Even at that age his
powers of observation had been evident, and he had forgotten no detail
of sails or rigging.
He had taken again so naturally his old place in the family circle that
his mother forgot once and called the tall, famous young man by his old
familiar name, "_Bebe_." She quickly corrected herself, but he said:
"I am always that to you, Mother."
"I was happier when you were little," she observed.
"I hope you are not vexed with me, Mother."
"Vexed for what?"
"For having grown up."
He was naturally full of the one subject that interested him, airplanes
and chasing, and he would go round the house collecting audiences.
Strange bits of narration could be overheard from different rooms as he
held forth:
"Then I _embusqued_ myself became a slacker.
Pages:
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228