“How can you tell?” the boy cross-questioned.
“Oh, Nicky Marcusi!” exclaimed Cara quite angrily. “You’re the queerest duck. Don’t you see that Barbara has made the officials commend you, and they have her name on file and they’ll read any letter she writes them? Then, as Captain Quiller says, they’ll get a whole lot of signatures, and they’ll investigate your father’s case. Can’t you understand that?”
Nicky had left the arm of the captain’s chair and was playing with the dog’s left ear. He raised his head now, dropped the dog’s ear and looked at Barbara.
“I allus knowed you was smart,” he said simply, “you kin tell fresh eggs just by touchin’ them.”
Every one roared laughing at that, but they understood what he meant. He meant that his first acquaintance with Barbara’s cleverness came through his experience in the egg business. He brought her eggs to buy and she just took them in her hand and said:
“Yes, these are fresh.”
That showed how smart she was, to Nicky.
So why shouldn’t she make the Washington officials believe in his father’s innocence after that? Surely one matter was as simple as the other, to a small boy.
“Well, son,” said the captain, when he had stopped puffing over the joke, “since you don’t care for medals we’ll see what we can do for you in pardons.”
“He don’t have to be pardoned, because he didn’t do anything wrong,” cried the child indignantly. He always flared up when his father’s trouble was mentioned.