"At night?" said the mother, carefully hiding all signs of the underground shock that made her heart tremble. "I like to read at night, too. But then, dear, if you do not read in the morning as well, you have no fresh heartful of the blessed words to live by through the day." And she looked round at Magnus with such eager, anxious, pleading eyes as went straight to his heart. Which truly was not far to seek, that morning. He jumped up and put himself in the other chair, drawing it up to her.
"Mammy," he said, "let me tell you about it. It's this way. The gun wakes me up. And I tumble downstairs half dressed, and declare at the top of my voice that I am myself, and nobody else. That is, the first sergeant calls 'Kindred!' and I yell back 'Here!' Then I rush in again, and tumble into bed, clothes and all, and get the very best nap you ever dreamed of."
"Another nap? For how long?"
"Two minutes and a quarter, drum time. Then I finish dressing and go to breakfast. And after breakfast, we don't have very much time before recitation."
"Cannot you read then?"
"Once in a while I do," said Magnus. "Not always. Maybe I do a little boning in math. Maybe I take a walk with the nicest girl there is round."
His mother could not help smiling.
"Can you always get the nicest?" she said.
"Oh, yes!" Magnus answered easily; "unless she happens to be somebody else's best. Sometimes then. You see, so long as she doesn't look me in the face, she can fancy I am her 'best' man."
"Why, Magnus!" his mother said, half laughing now, but really anxious; "how do you behave, to make that possible?"