“I wish to God that he were white!” exclaimed the girl.
A knock on the door put an end to their conversation, and Wichita arose from her chair and crossed the room to admit the caller. A tall, good looking subaltern stood smiling on the threshold as the door swung in.
“You’re prompt,” said Wichita.
“A good soldier always is,” said Mrs. Cullis.
“That is equivalent to a medal of honor, coming from the wife of my troop commander,” laughed King as he stepped into the room.
“Give me your cap,” said Wichita, “and bring that nice easy chair up here beside the table.”
“I was going to suggest that we take a walk,” said King, “that is if you ladies would care to. It’s a gorgeous night.”
“Suits me,” agreed Wichita. “How about you, Margaret?”
“I want to finish my sewing. You young folks run along and have your walk, and perhaps Captain Cullis will be here when you get back. If he is we’ll have a game of euchre.”
“I wish you’d come,” said Wichita.