"Do you ever have to shut him up?"
"Hardly ever. He made a bit of a fuss over his bath a few days ago, because I wanted him to learn to swim. I suppose you heard him howling. Hey! Bolshy, old top—what's got you?"
The Russian was plucking the soldier by the sleeve. He had straightened out something in his bewildered brain, for his face was contented and he was clicking his teeth comfortably. The soldier watched his gestures. "He's seen someone with eyes like this boy's somewhere overseas."
"That reminds me," said Cassowary. "I didn't introduce my cousin. His name is Dallas Duff and he is visiting us."
The soldier nodded, then he turned again to the Russian. "He says he was very very sick in a hospital in France. He had been hurt in a great battle. He did not know what it was about. A beautiful woman nursed him. She had peculiar eyes like faint stars on a dark night, but they warmed one, and her hair was shining and very sleek and bound round her head in waves."
Cassowary's lips parted, and she fairly hung on the soldier's words.
Bolshy was now fumbling at his shirt that hung quite loose outside his trousers.
"He's going fishing," said the soldier. "I'll bet it's for some souvenir the lady gave him."
We all pressed forward. The Russian's big paw was trembling as he brought to light a dirty little bag on a dirty little string around his neck. Fumbling at it, he managed to extract an American nickel.
We were all intensely interested in his movements, and the soldier remarked, "The lady was not French, he says, nor English, but everybody loved her. He wants to know whether the boy has a mother or an older sister."