“In that case we should have heard from him.”
“No, Joe’s proud—poor and proud!” said Oscar. “I guess he’s wished himself back many a time, but he’s too proud to own it.”
“Joe was good to work,” said the major.
“He was too conceited. He didn’t know his place. He thought himself as good as me,” said Oscar arrogantly.
“Most people seemed to like Joe,” said the major candidly.
“I didn’t,” said Oscar, tossing his head. “If he’d kept in his place and realized that he was a hired boy, I could have got along well enough with him.”
“I wish he would come back,” said the major. “I would take him back.”
“I dare say he’s had a hard time and would be humbler now,” said Oscar.
At this moment a knock was heard at the door, and just afterward Joe entered.
He wore a mixed suit considerably the worse for wear and patched in two or three places. There was a rip under the arm, and his hat, a soft felt one, had become shapeless from long and apparently hard usage. He stood in the doorway, waiting for recognition.