The sergeant said nothing, but glanced at the two nurses, who had forgotten their dispute and were chatting amiably.
“Come, Master Eugene,” said his nurse, “we must be going.”
The sergeant stepped back; and the little girl, who had been jealously watching him while he talked to Eugene, took his place.
“I’m sorry I made naughty faces at your remperor,” she said poutingly. “Kiss me, Eugene.”
The boy did not kiss her, and he made no apologies for his own conduct. “I pardon you,” he said calmly; and he dropped the pink fingers that she extended to him. “Will you have the kindness to promenade with your nurse? I wish to talk to this gentleman—if I am permitted;” and he turned to the sergeant, who was furiously gnawing his mustache to keep from laughing at the boy’s grown-up air.
The two nurses and the little girl strolled on ahead, while the sergeant and the boy followed them.
Eugene had recovered his composure. “What admirable weather,” he said, dreamily watching the fleecy clouds floating across the blue sky. “I am glad that my grandfather says I am to stay out-of-doors all the time, and not go to school.”
“Doesn’t your grandfather believe in schools?” asked the sergeant.
“No, Mr. Officer, not in the kind you have here,” said the boy wearily. “This is what it was like—I had my breakfast, and went to a hot room where boys and girls sat in rows. I bent over books for an hour or two, then there was a play-time for a few minutes only, after it more study until lunch-time. A few hurried mouthfuls of food I got at home, then I was running back to the school. By half-past three I was too languid to play, and would try to get my lessons for the next day. My head would ache, and I would go to bed. I tell you,” and the boy confronted his companion in sudden passion, “your schools are infamous. They should be abolished. I wish I were an emperor, or your Mr. President. I would guillotine the school-teachers.”
“You’re an odd one,” muttered the sergeant to himself, as he cast a side glance at the slim, elegant figure of the boy beside him. “With your flashes of anger, and your quiet dull way like an old man, you’re like a queer combination lock. It isn’t every one that can pick you open.”