"I can do lots, mammy!" he said. "Never you worry one bit. I can't do it for breakfast, and I can't do it to-night, but some other day I'll cut supper, and we'll have it down here together. And we'll have picnics instead of dinner. And I'll walk with you every minute of release from quarters."
"Release!" The word jarred on the mother's ear; to what had she sent her boy? But then, whatever it was, it agreed with him splendidly; never had she seen Magnus in more jocund health and strength; life at its best was in every look and motion. And the eyes that flashed and sparkled at her were not the least in the world careworn or overworked. So Mrs. Kindred locked up all her dismayed pangs and questionings, and once more stroking her boy's cropped head, remarked that it was said to make the hair grow to cut it.
"I'll have a mop when I come out, then," said Magnus. "How does Cherry wear her hair now? same old way?"
"Oh yes!" said Mrs. Kindred; "only it's never twice just the same. You know her curls arrange themselves—as yours used to, Magnus."
"Disarrange was the word for me. If anybody cuts hers off, I'll shoot him."
"I think somebody did cut one off once, without being shot," said Mrs. Kindred. Magnus coloured.
"That was only one," he said. "Why didn't you bring them all along? The girls, I mean."
"Why, you unreasonable boy," said his mother; "you expressly bade me not."
"I had been here so long, I forgot that you always minded," said Magnus, with a saucy look.
"Well, I did not always," said Mrs. Kindred; "but the girls could not have come off in such a moment, Magnus; they were not ready."