Mary Louise was dusting the car with a big square of cheesecloth. Danny helped her.
“I wish,” said the girl, “you’d go down to Donovans’ and pick out two suits of clothes—one for working in.” Her voice trembled a little. She did not know how this queer fellow would regard such a suggestion. “I’ll telephone Donovan right away to charge the clothes to Gran’pa Jim’s account,” she continued.
Dexter was silent for awhile, plying his cheesecloth thoughtfully. Then he said:
“In the days of the horse and coachman, did you clothe your men in uniform?”
“Y-e-s, a sort of uniform. When mama was with us she loved to see brightness, coupled with dignity. The Harrington uniform consists of wistaria broadcloth, with a bit of gold braid. But it’s not so gorgeous as it sounds.”
“Suits me, all right,” returned Danny, carelessly. “Would you mind my getting a Hathaway uniform instead of the other clothes?”
Mary Louise was astonished.
“No, indeed,” was her answer. “The uniform will have to be made for you by Jed Southwick, who keeps the materials. But I’m curious to know, Dexter, why you prefer a badge of servitude to a respectable suit of clothes. Do you mind telling me?”
After a little hesitation the soldier answered:
“That’s just it, Miss Hathaway—”