Mr. Bailey nodded. “I can see the point. You’re a terrific stickler for basic facts.
But you were right. Biff’s put in for training, and if he got blackballed now I don’t know what he’d do.”
“‘Put in’? What do you mean?”
“Oh, volunteered. Enlisted. In another month he’ll be in shape again. Maybe less.
He was dawdling around the house there, just the fool with that nurse. That—what’s-her-name.”
“Genevieve. What happened to her?” Mr. Bailey looked at his son with an air of remote amusement that surprised Jimmie. “What always happens—to those girls. Some other man. A new case, professionally—and romantically. She got sick of Biff when Biff got well.”
Jimmie frowned. “It’s a pity, Dad, you never talked like that around home.”
“I act like a prig? All right. I believe in it—when you have growing kids. Trouble is, I learned just recently you three were grown up. Sarah getting married. Biff going around corrupting morals, and enlisting to fight. Jimmie, it seems to me that you’ve done a whole lot for Biff and your sister.” He spoke wistfully.
“Nothing much. Played older brother. I am one, after all. They are nice kids—in their ways. Needed schooling, like animals.”
“Why don’t you ask me what Biff enlisted in? Seems as if you would.” Jimmie cleaned slush from the runner of a skate. “Oh, I knew. Air Force.”