"Why, then Daddy and I will return to America and have a little home somewhere—I hope near the Fort where I lived as a child; close by the sea and the capes and the beach."
They were silent a moment. Behind them was the merry hum of voices and the rapid movement of feet hurrying to and fro, but for that moment they were as much alone as though they were in the shadow of the old fort wall.
"My home," said Stewart, looking out over the sea into nothingness. "My home in eastern Scotland is like that. Some day I hope you will see it. If you ever grow very homesick for America let me know, and I'll try to arrange to run up there for a day with you and mother. The long beach will remind you of home."
"Thank you," said the girl, gently.
There was a long quiet between them, and then the young officer's face changed suddenly and he broke into an infectious laugh.
"Oh, the guns—do you remember the guns, and the pinafores and the sunbonnets? Weren't you ever caught?"
The tall girl joined in with his laugh and the two—his deep and hers low—mingled and drifted back to the passers-by who smiled sympathetically at the sound. Cary shook her head.
"No—that is, not until long afterwards. It seems that the Department issued orders that the big show guns should be recast, and when they were taken away and broken up—they were found to be storehouses for a small girl's wardrobe! Lieutenant Burden happened to be on the spot and the story he tells—" she broke off, still laughing.
"Was there anything left of the things?" asked the Briton, amused.
"Yes, indeed—some were pretty well preserved! And how poor old Mammy Amy would worry over the thief who dared to steal her 'chile's clothes!' It's all too funny!"