Uncle Sam's Boys as Lieutenants: or, Serving Old Glory as Line Officers. Hancock Harrie Irving
about officers and their duty to tell the truth?" chided Mrs. Terry, whose heart was full of joy and pride to-night.
"I'll amend my statement," replied Noll meekly. "I didn't bring my spectacles with me. But Hal ought to do the ordering, anyway. He always did. He was my ranking sergeant, and now he's my ranking lieutenant."
"We don't know that yet," objected Hal quickly. "We don't yet know anything about the order in which we passed."
"In the meantime," hinted Mr. Overton, "the cook's fire is running low."
So Hal turned his attention to the menu card, ordering with a free hand.
"Gracious! How many do you think there are at this table, young man?" demanded his mother.
"There are six of us," Hal answered. "But we can take hours in which to finish the meal, if we want to. Ralston's doesn't close until midnight."
The waiter, having received the order in silence, shuffled off without a word.
"Nothing very magnetic about that waiter," thought Hal, his glance following the waiter for an instant. "Somehow, his face looks familiar, too, but I've been away from home during the very few years when every boy turns into a young man. If I ever knew the chap I've forgotten him."
There was a rustling of silken skirts, then a resolute and very important-looking woman paused at the table. Just behind her waited a short, thin, rather negative-looking man.
The woman was red-faced, despite the liberal amount of powder with which she had striven to conceal the fact. She was richly dressed, and wore a few jewels, though not really enough of them to violate good taste. Hal recognized her as a Mrs. Redding, who, thanks largely to her husband's inherited wealth, had succeeded in making herself one of the leaders of local society. Mr. Redding was known principally as "Mrs. Redding's husband."
"Just a moment, my dear Mrs. Overton," cried Mrs. Redding cordially. "And you, too, my dear Mrs. Terry! I am pausing only a moment to congratulate you on the splendid news. I can well imagine how proud you are of your sons. And I must congratulate these two very distinguished sons, also."
Hal and Noll had risen promptly, though gravely and without haste. They bowed their acknowledgment of the congratulations.
"And how long are you going to be with us?" asked Mrs. Redding, allowing her gaze to wander from the face of one young officer to the other's.
"We don't know, madam," Hal replied courteously. "We are still in ignorance as to our orders."
"I shall hope to see much of you both, and of your families," Mrs. Redding beamed graciously. "To-morrow afternoon Mr. Redding and I, with some of our friends, are going to motor down the river in our new cruising boat, dining at the club-house. We should be delighted if you would accompany us. You won't disappoint us, will you?"
Hal glanced at his mother, who offered no reply, but glanced back at her son.
"We are very grateful for your invitation, Mrs. Redding," Lieutenant Hal continued. "Terry and I feel that we are not in the least certain about being able to keep any engagements that we might make, since we are both awaiting orders from the War Department. Besides all my engagements are in the charge and keeping of my mother."
"Then you will accept for yourself and friends, won't you, my dear Mrs. Overton?" asked Mrs. Redding, again turning to Hal's mother.
"I – I am very much afraid that we can't go to-morrow afternoon," replied Mrs. Overton slowly.
"Oh, well, then, we will make a later appointment," smiled Mrs. Redding affably. "There will be plenty of time, I am sure. So glad to have seen you this evening."
Still smiling, Mrs. Redding swept on through the restaurant with Mr. Redding in her wake. Somehow, one instinctively felt sorry for Mr. Redding; he looked very much like a small boat towing astern of a larger craft.
"I am wondering very much," smiled Hal's mother. "Although we have gone to the same church for the last fifteen years, Mrs. Redding has never before seemed to know who I am. She is suddenly very cordial."
"That is because you now have a son who is an officer in the Army," interposed Noll's father. "An Army officer is supposed to be a man of some social consequence."
"But that doesn't give me any more social consequence. I'm just the same woman that I always was," objected Mrs. Overton sensibly.
"But at least, my dear," suggested Hal's father, "you will be visiting your son at his post one of these days, and he may also urge you to bring some of your women friends."
"I certainly shall," Hal agreed.
"And Mrs. Redding may feel that she would like to be one of the invited," continued the elder Overton. "So, my dear, you see that you will become of social consequence. Others than Mrs. Redding, who have never even bowed to you before, will now be calling on you."
"I don't want new friends of that sort," remarked Hal's mother quietly.
"My dear, you'll have to be very agile if you expect to dodge all such new friends," laughed Hal's father.
Since Hal had given the order the orchestra had played several numbers. All of the little dining party were now becoming rather impatient for dinner.
"I guess our waiter doesn't like us very well," half-grumbled Lieutenant Hal.
"Very likely," nodded his father. "Of course you recognized the waiter."
"I can't say, sir, that I did."
"The waiter is Bunny Hepburn, more than three years older than when you last saw him," replied Mr. Overton.
"Bunny Hepburn? The son of that anarchist who spouts about man's rights in beer-gardens?" questioned Hal. "Hepburn the man who is always trying to start strikes and labor riots?"
"That's the man, and Bunny is a half-worthy son of the sire, I hear," replied Mr. Overton.
"Here comes Bunny now," announced Mr. Terry.
Bunny appeared, setting bread and butter on the table, distributing knives, forks and spoons at the places and filling the water glasses.
"Will you bring the first course of our dinner right along now, waiter?" Hal asked pleasantly.
"When I can," came the half surly reply. "You'll have to wait your turn with the other customers."
"We expect to do that," Hal agreed, without resentment. "But we've been waiting about forty minutes now, and many others have been served who came in since we did."
"You needn't think you're running this restaurant," sneered the waiter.
"By no means," Hal agreed. "But we are at least paying for our food, for attendance and civility."
"You'll get all the attendance you're entitled to," grumbled the waiter. "Don't think you own the earth. Soldiers are no good."
"A lot of people entertain that opinion," Hal answered quietly, turning his back on the impudent waiter.
All might still have gone well, had Bunny been content to drop it there. But, as readers of the first volume in this series, "Uncle Sam's Boys in the Ranks," are aware, Bunny had been bred in contempt of the military and of everything connected with it.
"You soldiers are nothing but just a lot of cheap skates," Bunny muttered on bitterly. "You wear a uniform that is nothing but the cheap livery of slavery to the wealthy, and march under a flag that stands for nothing but tyranny to the poor and down-trodden of humanity."
This was almost word for word a copy from the anarchistic speeches of Bunny's father.
Lieutenant Hal's face went white as he wheeled once more in his chair and rose quickly.
Mrs. Overton had a momentary notion that her son was going to knock Bunny down, and she wouldn't have blamed him if he had. But Bunny quailed somewhat before the blazing light in the young Army officer's eyes.
"Stand back, waiter," ordered Hal quietly. Then, looking very tall and dignified, Lieutenant Hal stepped across the restaurant, going over to the desk, where the proprietor stood chatting with the cashier.
"Are you being properly