"Grabbed off for what?"
"Well, maybe, to keep our paving-blocks from being thrown through the windows of the State House!"
"Who is taking those men from their work?"
"The adjutant-general. They're Home Guard boys."
"Something busted out in Patagonia needing the attention of a League of Nations army?" inquired the mayor, putting an edge of satire on his astonishment.
The superintendent shot a swift stare past the mayor. "Perhaps Danny Sweetsir, there, can tell you—Captain Daniel Sweetsir." The public works man copied the mayor's sarcasm by dwelling on the title he applied to Sweetsir.
The mayor took a look, too.
A young man in overalls and jumper had hurried into the office from the private passage; he was trotting toward a closet in one corner. He had the privileges of the office because he was "a mill student," studying the textile trade, and was a son of the Morrison's family physician.
Sweetsir shucked off his jumper, leaped out of his overalls, threw them in at the closet door, and was revealed in full uniform of O. D. except for cap and sword. He secured those two essentials of equipment from the closet and strode toward the rail, buckling on his sword.
Miss Bunker was surveying him with telltale and proprietary pride that was struggling with an expression of utter amazement.