He did. Next morning he met the boy leaning over the counter at the grocery store on the corner, where Will White, back at his old job, was waiting on customers. The old gentleman noticed that Will saluted when Danny entered the store soon after Gran’pa Jim did.
“Why did you do that?” asked Mary Louise’s grandfather, in a gruff voice.
“Why, he was our top-sergeant, sir, while I was only a private,” replied Will, “and I can’t get over the distinction. In the war I had to salute him, and—don’t you know, sir, that Danny Dexter wears a decoration, or could wear one, if he cared to? But he keeps it buttoned up tight in his pocket-book. Medal of Distinction or something, earned by saving the lives of some of the wounded soldiers. Danny was always modest; they called him ‘The Lamb’ in our regiment—but, gee whiz, how that lad can fight when he gets the thrills into him!”
All this was said while Top-Sergeant Dexter was in the rear of the grocery, examining the labels on a vinegar barrel, so he heard nothing of Will White’s commendation. Shortly after, when Gran’pa Jim had given his own order, the old gentleman walked over to Dexter and said in his point-blank way:
“Dexter, do you want a job?”
Danny sat down on a box, scuttled his feet and regarded his interrogator with a smile that slowly dawned and as slowly faded away.
“I’m getting tired of hanging around here,” he announced. “What sort of a job have you to offer?”
“Why, I live in that big corner house facing the park. What I want is a young man to care for my garden—”
“Ah, I love a garden. Flowers are so spicy and bright and fragrant, don’t you think?”
“And also to clear up the front lawn, and to rake up the leaves, and see that the living room grate is supplied with firewood, and keep up the yard generally and to clip the hedges—”