Morey waited four days for his mother’s reply. During that time he heard nothing from Major Squiers or from the real estate firm, and his expenses were already nearly twelve dollars. Then he called at the real estate office. The manager remembered him, was profuse in his apologies, but had been too busy to give the matter consideration. He would attempt to do so at once. Morey retired somewhat crestfallen. He had imagined that his business was to receive immediate attention. Not wishing to bother Lieutenant Purcell he went alone to the War Department and asked to see Major Squiers. After much delay he was admitted.
Major Squiers greeted him cordially but with every sign of having no time to lose.
“I just wanted to ask you about the papers?” Morey explained at once.
“Oh, yes,” responded the military executive. “They have been submitted to the proper officials. When reports are made on them I will take the matter up with the Secretary of War. You mustn’t be impatient, my son. We are all the victims of red tape here in Washington.”
“Have you any idea when I shall know?”
“Not the slightest—weeks perhaps; maybe months. You had better go home in the meantime.”
“I should say not,” responded Morey decisively. “Don’t you remember what you told me I could do? I can’t afford to loaf, either here or at home. I want to enlist.”
“I remember,” laughed Major Squiers. “Have you your mother’s formal consent?”
“I expect to have it in a day or so.”
Major Squiers thought a moment. Then he turned to his desk and wrote a note.