"He's only a baby yet, of course," John Lester said to his wife. "His mind is clean and open and honest; just a child's mind still. But his body--well, he's going to be something of a man, I believe."
"He is, I think," agreed Dick's mother. "And so good looking, John!"
"Oh, that!" He laughed down at her. "You women only think about handsome faces!"
"Indeed, I don't," Mrs. Lester defended herself. "I've been just as keen about his physical training as you have. I wanted him to be strong first of all. But he might have been strong and ugly--and he isn't. And you're just as proud of it as I am!"
"Well--perhaps." He smiled down at her. "But physique comes first; and he certainly has that. His muscles are extraordinarily good for such a kid."
"Fresh air and cold water," said Mrs. Lester solemnly. "That has been Dick's treatment since he was a baby, and it certainly has paid. He hardly knows what medicine is, and he looks the very picture of strength and fitness."
"Yes, thank God," she agreed. "Why do you say it in that way, John?"
"Oh, I don't know." He gave a short, half-embarrassed laugh. "They say in Ireland that if you don't add 'Thank God' after you praise anyone it brings bad luck. The peasantry there never omit it; you'll hear, ''Tis a fine child, thank God!' or 'She have lovely eyes, thank God!'--and you'll worry a peasant woman badly if you admire her baby without giving God the credit. I got into the way of it, I suppose."
"Well, it's a pretty good habit to cultivate," said his wife thoughtfully. "Look at Dick now!"
They had motored far out into the country, and had camped in the bush for lunch; after which Dick had stripped to his shirt and knickerbockers, and had begun to climb trees. Nine months of hard training in the gymnasium at school had put a finish on lifelong practice, a steady eye and a cool head. Dick had always loved climbing--before he had discarded frocks for knickerbockers he had been found by his horrified nurse some distance up a pepper tree. Now he was almost like a monkey in the swift agility of his movements. As his father and mother watched him, he swung himself cleanly across a wide gap between two trees; caught a bough with one hand, and came dropping down from branch to branch until he reached one about ten feet from the ground--a smooth, straight limb, that tempted him with its likeness to a horizontal bar. He swung head downwards, hanging by his knees, and then circled round and round with such swiftness that the slender bough bent and quivered. Finally, he turned a quick somersault in the air and came down on the grass, landing lightly on his feet.