Joe ate his supper, and then sat gazing into the fire that had been kindled on the hearth.
“I was just thinking, Mr. Deo,” he said, after a while, “whether I ought to go and see mother.”
“Now that is the question.” Mr. Deometari drew his chair closer to the lad, as if preparing to argue the matter. “Of course, you feel as if you ought to go. That is natural. But, if you go, you will have to give your mother some reason for being here. You could only tell her that I had sent for you. This is such a poor reason that she would be uneasy. Don’t you think so?”
“Well,” said Joe, after a pause, “I can come to see her next Sunday.”
Rubbing his fat hands together, Mr. Deome-tari looked at Joe a long time. He seemed to be meditating. The ring on his finger glistened like a ray of sunlight that had been captured and was trying to escape.
“I want to take you around,” he said to Joe after a while, “and introduce you to Captain Johnson, our worthy provost-marshal.”
“Me?” asked the lad, in a tone of astonishment.
“Yes,” said Mr. Deometari. “Why not? A bright boy like you should be acquainted with all our great military men. Our noble captain would be very glad to see you if he knew as much about your visit as I do.”
“But as it is,” said Joe, quickly, “he doesn’t know any more about it than I do.”
“My dear boy,” exclaimed Mr. Deometari, in a bantering tone, “don’t get impatient. It is so very simple that all our plans might be spoiled if I told you. Now, then,” he continued, looking at his watch, “if you are ready, we will go. You have no overcoat, but my shawl here will answer just as well.”