“Our mother has adopted them,” said Porky patiently and distinctly. The captain pushed back his cap and stared.
“Where is your mother?” he asked.
“Home,” said Porky.
“New York state,” added Beany. “She wanted something to remember the war by, so we are going to take her these. She didn’t want any German helmets or anything of that sort. She said she didn’t want ever to be reminded of helmets, so we will take her these instead.”
“But, good heavens!” said the officer. “You ought not do anything like that! She would have to bring them up.”
“That’s all right, too,” said Porky. “Mom has had experience. She has had us, and one of these is a girl. Girls ought to be easier than boys.”
“No, she won’t mind and, anyhow, we are going to do all the hard work ourselves. Teaching them swimming and baseball and all that.”
“The girl will like that,” said the officer dryly.
“Course she will!” said Beany, looking proudly down at the future baseballess.
“It’s like this,” said Porky. “Our people always trust us, and we know it will be all right. I do hope you can fix it for us, Captain.”