"Well, why don't you?"
"Hem! I suppose it is because I haven't been asked."
"That's a funny reason! I thought big men could do anything they wanted to, without anybody tellin' 'em they could or they couldn't. When I get to be a big woman, mamma says I won't have to ask her what I can do before I do it. Won't that be lovely?"
Jermyn did not reply, so the child began again to scan the offing with the glass. Then she wanted to do something else, and Jermyn was reminded amusingly of some ways of his sisters, when those estimable women were very young.
"Say," remarked Trixy, suddenly, "mamma says you great big soldiers are just like little children in one way. You never can go any place without askin' somebody to let you."
"Your mamma is entirely right about it," said Jermyn, with a laugh.
"How funny!" said Trixy, as if talking to herself.
The child finally disappeared, but Jermyn remained. He wondered how he could explain his reappearance at the fort, after taking a week's leave only twenty-four hours before, should any awkwardness on the part of any one prevent him joining the party. He wished he might see Trif alone for a moment or two, but he knew better than to disturb a woman absorbed in the duties of packing. He was uncomfortable; he felt that he was in the way, but he pulled himself together by saying that he might as well be a thousand miles away from Trif and Kate as he was at that moment, while they were occupied as they were. He could still make a pretense of looking for that yacht, for Trixy had left the glasses in her chair. Perhaps, after their work was done, one or other of the ladies might accidentally find him, and something might be said that would give him the opportunity for which he longed.
"Mamma," said Trixy, entering the room and stumbling over trunks, "why don't Mr. Jermyn go to New York with us?"