self deliberately to triumph over his dour, forbidding brother-in-law, and to impress his own son. It was as if he felt that his son had a poor opinion of him, and meant to prove that he was wrong in his judgment.
He told the whole story of the voyage out, of his fall down a companionway, and the strange darkness that followed. Once more he bowed his head and exhibited the scar.
"But," said the skeptical Elmer sourly, "you always had that scar, Jason. You got it falling on the ice at the front gate."
"Oh, no. The one before was only a small one. The funny thing was that I struck my head in exactly the same place. Wasn't that queer? And then when I fell out of the mow I hit it a third time. That's what the doctors in Sydney said made it so serious." For a moment, conscious that the embroidering had begun, Emma looked troubled and uneasy.
And Mabelle, with a look of profound speculation, asked, "And what if you hit it a fourth time? Would that make you lose your memory about Australia?"
Jason coughed and looked at her sharply, and then said, "Well, no one could say about that. If it happened again, it would probably kill me."
"Well," said Mabelle, "I must say I never heard a more interesting story . . . I never read as interesting a one in any of the magazines . . . not even in the Ladies' Home Journal."
For a moment Philip wanted to laugh at Mabelle's question, but it wasn't a natural desire to laugh: it sprang from a blend of anger and hysterics. He loathed the whole party, with Mabelle and her half-witted questions, his mother with all her character
