"No'm. Now you have an idea of desolate destitution." And Magnus raised himself on one elbow again, drew out a white handkerchief from his sleeve, and after a melancholy wave in the air, tucked it back again.
"But my dear!" said Mrs. Kindred.
"Ah, you see what development costs here," said Magnus. "No wonder I have shot up into the air, that being the only place where I couldn't run against regulations. Just notice to-night at parade what preternaturally tall men we have in the Corps. You see there are no Tacs up overhead,"—and Magnus gazed pathetically into the serene blue.
"Stop fooling," said his mother. "Magnus, if you have no pockets—why, I never heard of such doings!—then where do you put anything?"
"Up my sleeve."
"Nonsense; your sleeve will not hold much to speak of."
"No," said Magnus; "and so what it holds is generally not spoken of. In winter we have a resource—a small one; but in summer we should be hard up if it wasn't for the girls."
"What have the girls to do with your pockets?" said Mrs. Kindred rather severely.
"Would fill them, if we had any. As it is, they fill their own and empty them at our feet."
"Magnus, I don't know you," said his mother; "I never heard you talk in that way at home, and I do not like it now."