"Girls never are. They'd learn, if they had a week or two in camp. Bang goes the reveille gun—and in just two minutes you have to be dressed and out in line, swearing that 'Kindred, C.' is present and accounted for."
"Swearing, Magnus?"
"Well, some of the men make the statement pretty loud. I am one of the mild kind, and 'roar gently.'"
"Yes, I know what your gentle roars amount to," said his mother derisively. "But Magnus, do they really make you dress in two minutes?"
"By my watch."
"But you haven't got a watch," said the perplexed mother.
"And therefore am subject now and then to miscalculations."
"Well, West Point has not changed you yet, to hurt," said the mother, smiling at him. Magnus took her tender hands and put one on each side of his face.
"Mammy," he said, "it is the jolliest thing to see you sitting there, puzzling your dear head over my grinds. I could cry, if I wanted to. But I say, when you do bring the girls, don't give 'em time to get ready. They shan't come here looking as if they'd never had anything before, but had got it now, sure."
"But our girls have always had enough, you know, Magnus, and they are not likely to have any more," said Mrs. Kindred, cutting both knots.