Creeping over nearer, closing in around by patient degrees, came the army marshalled by the plain little officer, with sword at attention, marching on foot at the head of his men.
"I have it!" cried the Man, in heart-felt triumph. He looked up. There was a dawning realization of his audience.
"A queer thing for an old man like me to be playing with toy soldiers," he laughed, sweeping the late combatants into an undignified heap.
"So have I seen the officers at home in the école de guerre. Such play would aid you were you a soldier."
The tall man shot a quick glance at Joseph, in which there was much humor and some suspicion.
"Tell me—" he began. But he did not finish his sentence. He was feverishly anxious to be gone. There was so much to be done; the child's fingers were clumsy as she wrapped up the soldiers. But he found time for a smile at the little maid and a sympathetic pressure of Joseph's hand before he crossed the threshold and was gone.
At the same moment there was a bustle at the door. Mrs. Schotz hurried in, market-basket in hand. She had not laid it down before she was at her husband's side, her anxious eyes searching his face to find how he had fared.
"Clara, the tall man has been here again."
"Yes," she said, "I met him. Do you know yet who he is?"