They seized the same pillow fiercely, confronting each other; massacre appeared imminent.
"Two pillows," said Drina sweetly; and extermination was averted. The child laughed happily, covering one of Boots's hands with both of hers.
"So you've left the service, Mr. Lansing?" began Eileen, lying back and looking smilingly at Boots.
"Had to, Miss Erroll. Seven millionaires ran into my quarters and chased me out and down Broadway into the offices of the Westchester Air Line Company. Then these seven merciless multi-millionaires in buckram bound and gagged me, stuffed my pockets full of salary, and forced me to typewrite a fearful and secret oath to serve them for five long, weary years. That's a sample of how the wealthy grind the noses of the poor, isn't it, Drina?"
The child slipped her hand from his, smiling uncertainly.
"You don't mean all that, do you?"
"Indeed I do, sweetheart."
"Are you not a soldier lieutenant any more, then?" she inquired, horribly disappointed.
"Only a private in the workman's battalion, Drina."
"I don't care," retorted the child obstinately; "I like you just as much."