said, “I’ll tell Mama that you will be down to breakfast directly. Major Randolph is waiting, too.”
Oh, he is
, she thought, flattered. “I’ll hurry. Stanley, no more cussing. Promise?”
He nodded. She put the soap back in her carpetbag and hugged him, then set him on his feet. “Stanley, I knew you would see the good in doing right.”
He nodded in that philosophical way of four-year-olds and went down the stairs at a sedate pace that lasted for only a few steps. Susanna dressed quickly, wishing that everything she owned wasn’t wrinkled. She had no washbasin, so she went into her cousin’s room and washed her face, hoping Emily wouldn’t mind.
Major Randolph sat in the dining room, frowningat a bowl of oatmeal. “My mother always told me it was good for me.”
“It is, Major,” Susanna said, standing in the doorway.
“Very well. I’ll eat it if you’ll join me,” he said, indicating another bowl of oatmeal.
She sat down beside the major and picked up her spoon. “Race you,” she said.
He smiled and started to eat. Emily came into the room and sat down, too, a stunned look in her eyes.
Susanna put down her spoon. “Emily?”
“Stanley told me he will never swear again. What did you
do?
”
“I threatened him with pine tar soap, then appealed to the better angels of his nature, to quote our late president,” Susanna told her.
Emily’s eyes were wide with puzzlement. “Our late president?”
“Abraham Lincoln. Stanley knows his limits now. I am fond of little boys.”
Susanna glanced at the post surgeon, who was smiling at her. She returned her attention to her oatmeal, pleased.
When Emily returned to the lean-to kitchen, Major Randolph whispered, “After sick call this morning, I went to Captain Dunklin’s quarters, prescribed a moderate diet and praised him for bearing up under the strain of what I am calling erobitis.”
“Erobitis?” she repeated. “I am afraid to ask.I know that ‘itis’ means inflammation of, or disease of.”
“I expected a teacher to know that. Just spell ‘erob’ backward and you have it.”
“Where is this
erob
located on the body?” she asked when she could speak.
“Somewhere between the spleen and the bile duct, I should think, right next to the coils of umbrage,” he said serenely. “More coffee?”
“If I drank coffee right now, I would snort it out my nose,” she joked.
“Bravo, Mrs. Hopkins,” the doctor replied with a grin. “I have never heard anything resembling wit come out of Captain Reese’s quarters.”
“Hush,” she whispered. “You will get us both in trouble.”
Before the major could say anything, the bugler blew another call.
“Guard mount,” Major Randolph said. “To the porch.”
He gestured toward the front door as Stanley ran in from the kitchen. The major scooped up the little boy and carried him outside. He set Stanley on the porch railing and held him there, then pointed toward the end of the parade ground. “The bugler stands in front of the adjutant’s office, or post headquarters.”
“And the bugle calls?”
“Rubbing the sleep from his eyes before any of us—unless I have some calamity to deal with in hospital—the bugler starts with reveille first call,which is followed by reveille, and then assembly, when all the men line up in front of their barracks to be counted.” Major Randolph touched Stanley’s head. “What comes next, lad?”
“Breakfast call,” the child said promptly. “My favorite.”
“That is followed by surgeon’s call,” the major continued, “
my
favorite, Stanley. The infirm, lame and malingering stagger to the hospital, or I am summoned to the barracks. I just came from surgeon’s call, so the call that followed was guard mount.”
Susanna looked at the other porches down Officers Row, where other women and children watched.
“Usually the band performs for guard mount. They won’t play outdoors until at least the end of February. The night watch
Oh, he is
, she thought, flattered. “I’ll hurry. Stanley, no more cussing. Promise?”
He nodded. She put the soap back in her carpetbag and hugged him, then set him on his feet. “Stanley, I knew you would see the good in doing right.”
He nodded in that philosophical way of four-year-olds and went down the stairs at a sedate pace that lasted for only a few steps. Susanna dressed quickly, wishing that everything she owned wasn’t wrinkled. She had no washbasin, so she went into her cousin’s room and washed her face, hoping Emily wouldn’t mind.
Major Randolph sat in the dining room, frowningat a bowl of oatmeal. “My mother always told me it was good for me.”
“It is, Major,” Susanna said, standing in the doorway.
“Very well. I’ll eat it if you’ll join me,” he said, indicating another bowl of oatmeal.
She sat down beside the major and picked up her spoon. “Race you,” she said.
He smiled and started to eat. Emily came into the room and sat down, too, a stunned look in her eyes.
Susanna put down her spoon. “Emily?”
“Stanley told me he will never swear again. What did you
do?
”
“I threatened him with pine tar soap, then appealed to the better angels of his nature, to quote our late president,” Susanna told her.
Emily’s eyes were wide with puzzlement. “Our late president?”
“Abraham Lincoln. Stanley knows his limits now. I am fond of little boys.”
Susanna glanced at the post surgeon, who was smiling at her. She returned her attention to her oatmeal, pleased.
When Emily returned to the lean-to kitchen, Major Randolph whispered, “After sick call this morning, I went to Captain Dunklin’s quarters, prescribed a moderate diet and praised him for bearing up under the strain of what I am calling erobitis.”
“Erobitis?” she repeated. “I am afraid to ask.I know that ‘itis’ means inflammation of, or disease of.”
“I expected a teacher to know that. Just spell ‘erob’ backward and you have it.”
“Where is this
erob
located on the body?” she asked when she could speak.
“Somewhere between the spleen and the bile duct, I should think, right next to the coils of umbrage,” he said serenely. “More coffee?”
“If I drank coffee right now, I would snort it out my nose,” she joked.
“Bravo, Mrs. Hopkins,” the doctor replied with a grin. “I have never heard anything resembling wit come out of Captain Reese’s quarters.”
“Hush,” she whispered. “You will get us both in trouble.”
Before the major could say anything, the bugler blew another call.
“Guard mount,” Major Randolph said. “To the porch.”
He gestured toward the front door as Stanley ran in from the kitchen. The major scooped up the little boy and carried him outside. He set Stanley on the porch railing and held him there, then pointed toward the end of the parade ground. “The bugler stands in front of the adjutant’s office, or post headquarters.”
“And the bugle calls?”
“Rubbing the sleep from his eyes before any of us—unless I have some calamity to deal with in hospital—the bugler starts with reveille first call,which is followed by reveille, and then assembly, when all the men line up in front of their barracks to be counted.” Major Randolph touched Stanley’s head. “What comes next, lad?”
“Breakfast call,” the child said promptly. “My favorite.”
“That is followed by surgeon’s call,” the major continued, “
my
favorite, Stanley. The infirm, lame and malingering stagger to the hospital, or I am summoned to the barracks. I just came from surgeon’s call, so the call that followed was guard mount.”
Susanna looked at the other porches down Officers Row, where other women and children watched.
“Usually the band performs for guard mount. They won’t play outdoors until at least the end of February. The night watch
Similar Books
