"Of course." Further than this superficial fact, I was too dazed to go; but I knew I must get rid of the boys. Turning to Patsy Bridget, I said, "Patsy, could you take the other boys home and see them safely to their doors?"
"Sure!" Patsy answered, with the confidence of fifteen.
"Aw, we don't want no one to take us home," the elder of the Finn's boys protested. "Me and me kid bruvver go all over N'York. Don't we, Broncho?"
Another lad spoke up.
"I come from me aunt's house in Harlem right down to East Thirty-fourth Street all by meself and me little sister."
It was Vio who arranged the matter to every one's satisfaction. With her right hand on one boy's shoulder and her left on another's she said, in a tone of quiet authority:
"You see, this is the way it is: The war is over at last. They've just signed the peace treaty, and I've come to tell Mr. Harrowby. But now that we've got peace we've got to go on fighting, only fighting in a better way and for better things. Now, you're a little army, with Mr. Harrowby as your commander-in-chief, like Marshal Foch. But under him you're all officers, according to your ages. Patsy is the general, and you're the colonel," she continued to the elder Finn boy.
"Aw, no, he's not, miss," one of the other lads declared, tearfully. "I'm older'n him. He's only twelve goin' on thirteen, and I'm thirteen goin' on fourteen."
This, too, was adjusted, and with a dollar from Vio for ice-cream sodas, the general traped out, followed by colonel, major, captain, and lieutenants, each keeping to his rank by marching in Indian file. I had never before seen Vio in this light, and something new and human that had not entered into our previous relations suddenly was there.
Left alone with her, I was in too great a tumult of excitement to find words for the opportunity.