Tom wanted to tell him that this lack of confidence was not a suitable return of a stay-at-home for the peril and privation he had endured for him; but he left in disgust, hardly replying to the flattering request of the tailor that he would call again. With his pride touched, he walked down to the railroad station to await the departure of the train. He had hardly entered the building before he discovered the familiar form of Captain Barney, to whom he hastened to present himself.
“Why, Tom, my hearty!” roared the old sea captain, as he grasped and wrung his hand. “I’m glad to see you. Shiver my mainmast, but you’ve grown a foot since you went away. But you don’t look well, Tom.”
“I’m not very well, sir; but I’m improving very rapidly.”
“How’s your wound?”
“O, that’s almost well.”
“Sit down, Tom. I want to talk with you,” said Captain Barney, as he led the soldier boy to a seat.
In half an hour Tom had told all he knew about the battle of Williamsburg, and the old sailor had communicated all the news from Pinchbrook.
“Tom, you’re a lieutenant now, but you haven’t got on your uniform,” continued Captain Barney.
“No, sir,” replied Tom, laughing. “I went into a store to order one, and they wouldn’t trust me.”
“Wouldn’t trust you, Tom!” exclaimed the captain. “Show me the place, and I’ll smash in their deadlights.”