Chapter 15 - Page 2

involved in a
discussion, with Joan and Tudor siding against him, in which a more
astounding charge than ever he had dreamed of was made against the
very English control and reserve of which he was secretly proud.

"The Yankees talk a lot about what they do and have done," Tudor
said, "and are looked down upon by the English as braggarts. But
the Yankee is only a child. He does not know effectually how to
brag. He talks about it, you see. But the Englishman goes him one
better by not talking about it. The Englishman's proverbial lack
of bragging is a subtler form of brag after all. It is really
clever, as you will agree."

"I never thought of it before," Joan cried. "Of course. An
Englishman performs some terrifically heroic exploit, and is very
modest and reserved--refuses to talk about it at all--and the
effect is that by his silence he as much as says, 'I do things like
this every day. It is as easy as rolling off a log. You ought to
see the really heroic things I could do if they ever came my way.
But this little thing, this little episode--really, don't you know,
I fail to see anything in it remarkable or unusual.' As for me, if
I went up in a powder explosion, or saved a hundred lives, I'd want
all my friends to hear about it, and their friends as well. I'd be
prouder than Lucifer over the affair. Confess, Mr. Sheldon, don't
you feel proud down inside when you've done something daring or
courageous?"

Sheldon nodded.

"Then," she pressed home the point, "isn't disguising that pride
under a mask of careless indifference equivalent to telling a lie?"

"Yes, it is," he admitted. "But we tell similar lies every day.
It is a matter of training, and the English are better trained,
that is all. Your countrymen will be trained as well in time. As
Mr. Tudor said, the Yankees are young."

"Thank goodness we haven't begun to tell such lies yet!" was Joan's
ejaculation.

"Oh, but you have," Sheldon said quickly. "You were telling me a
lie of that order only the other day. You remember when you were
going up the lantern-halyards hand over hand? Your face was the
personification of duplicity."

"It was no such thing."

"Pardon me a moment," he went on. "Your face was as calm and
peaceful as though you were reclining in a steamer-chair. To look
at your face one would have inferred that carrying the weight of
your body up a rope hand over hand was a very commonplace
accomplishment--as easy as rolling off a log. And you needn't tell
me, Miss Lackland, that you didn't make faces the first time you
tried to climb a rope. But, like any circus athlete, you trained
yourself out of the face-making period. You trained your face to
hide your feelings, to hide the