Alexander
went on, "it must have been a flash of the
distrust I have come to feel whenever
I meet any of the people who knew Bartley
when he was a boy. It is always as if
they were talking of someone I had never met.
Really, Professor Wilson, it would seem
that he grew up among the strangest people.
They usually say that he has turned out very well,
or remark that he always was a fine fellow.
I never know what reply to make."
Wilson chuckled and leaned back in his chair,
shaking his left foot gently. "I expect the
fact is that we none of us knew him very well,
Mrs. Alexander. Though I will say for myself
that I was always confident he'd do
something extraordinary."
Mrs. Alexander's shoulders gave a slight
movement, suggestive of impatience.
"Oh, I should think that might have been
a safe prediction. Another cup, please?"
"Yes, thank you. But predicting, in the
case of boys, is not so easy as you might
imagine, Mrs. Alexander. Some get a bad
hurt early and lose their courage; and some
never get a fair wind. Bartley"--he dropped
his chin on the back of his long hand and looked
at her admiringly--"Bartley caught the wind early,
and it has sung in his sails ever since."
Mrs. Alexander sat looking into the fire
with intent preoccupation, and Wilson
studied her half-averted face. He liked the
suggestion of stormy possibilities in the proud
curve of her lip and nostril. Without that,
he reflected, she would be too cold.
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