Never in his life had he walked with a girl anywhere near his own age, and he felt just as he had felt that gala day when he had chatted with her in Temple Camp office. And because he was flustered and knew of nothing in particular to say, he repeated just what he had said then—that he could see she liked Roscoe, and he added that he didn't blame her, for Roscoe was "so good-looking in his uniform—kind of."
To this she made no answer; but after a few minutes she said, "Will you take me through Barrel Alley where you used to live?"
So Tom took her through Barrel Alley, answering her questions about his experiences and telling of spies and torpedoings and his rescue and cruise to South America simply, almost dully, as if they were things which were not worth talking about.
When they came behind John Temple's big bank building, they stood on the barrel staves whence the alley derived its name and counted the floors and picked out the windows of Temple Camp office.
"You'll come in and see Mr. Burton in the morning, won't you?" she said.
"Maybe," said Tom.
The good scout trail, which had wound over half the earth, took them on down that poor, sordid alley, and he showed her the tenement where he had once lived.
"The day we got put out," he said simply, "the sheriff stood a beer can on my mother's picture."
"Oh!" she said; "and then?"