Freddy Farmer opened his mouth to speak, but a wrathful snort came out of it instead.
"I might have known!" he growled. "General Eisenhower call you to his headquarters? Rot! Pure rot!"
"Okay, then, have it your way," Dawson sighed, and returned his attention to his book.
Freddy glared at him for a few seconds, then gave a little resigned shake of his head, and took a deep breath.
"Very well," he said, "I might as well let you get it all off your chest. And what did General Eisenhower say to you, my good man?"
"For two cents I wouldn't tell you!" Dawson grunted. "But I don't really need the money, so I will. The general told me that we were all being sent back here for a home stay because the invasion of Hitler's Europe is not bound to pop 'most any day, as you have just so glibly remarked."
"Really, Dave?" Freddy Farmer gasped. "Honest? You mean...? Oh, blast you, stop pulling my leg! I know perfectly well that General Eisenhower didn't say a word to you. You didn't even see him!"
Dawson grinned, and opened his mouth. But he closed it when he saw the look on young Farmer's face. Instead, he shook his head gravely.
"No, Freddy," he said. "The general didn't say a thing to me. It's dollars to doughnuts that he doesn't even know I exist. But I put it that way so's you'd catch on."
"Catch on to what?" Freddy wanted to know.