Tom Slade with the Colors | Page 7

It was while he was engaged in this heroic labor that a thought entered
his mind which he put away from him, but which kept recurring again
and again, and which ended by cheating him out of his night's sleep.
Why should Roscoe Bent be leaving home with two suitcases at twelve
o'clock at night when he would have to register for the selective draft
the next day?
After this rather puzzling question had entered his mind and refused to
be ousted or explained away, other puzzling questions began to follow
it. Why had the lights of the automobile been out? Why had there been
no lights in the house? Why had no one come out on the porch to bid
Roscoe good-bye? Why had not Roscoe slammed the auto door shut, as
one naturally did, that being the easiest way to shut it?
Well, all that was Roscoe's business, not his, thought Tom, as he settled
down to go to sleep, and perhaps he had closed the door quietly
because he wished not to disturb any one so late at night. That was very
thoughtful of Roscoe....
But just the same Tom could not go to sleep, and he lay in bed thinking
uneasily.
He had just about conquered his misgivings and had begun to think
how suspicious and ungenerous he was, when another question
occurred to him which had the effect of a knockout blow to his peace of
mind.
Why had Roscoe Bent told Miss Ellison that it was better to be a live
coward than a dead hero?
--Why, he had only been joking, of course, when he said that! It was
one of those silly, careless things that he was always saying. Miss
Ellison had not seemed to think it was very funny, but that had only

made Roscoe laugh the more. "I'd rather kill time than kill Germans,"
he had said lightly. And Miss Ellison had said, "You're quite brave at
killing time, aren't you?"
It was just joking and jollying, thought Tom, as he turned over for the
fourth or fifth time, and he wished that he could joke and jolly like that.
He made up his mind that when Roscoe came upstairs in the morning
he would ask him whether the Germans weren't cowards to murder
innocent women and children, and whether he would really want to be
like them. He believed he could say that much without a tremor, even
in front of Miss Ellison.
He wished morning would come so that he could be sure that Roscoe ...
so that he could say that when Roscoe came upstairs.
"I'll bet he'll be sleepy after being out so late," thought Tom.
CHAPTER IV
THE CUP OF JOY
Tom was to have the next day off for his patriotic activities, but he
went to the Temple Camp office early in the morning to get the mail
opened and attend to one or two routine duties.
He found Miss Ellison already at her desk, and she greeted him with a
mysterious smile.
"I hear you're going to be one of the celebrities," she said, busying
herself with her typewriter machine.
"One of the what?" said Tom.
"One of the leading figures of the day. I don't suppose you'll even look
at poor me to-morrow.--I was down in the bank and Mr. Temple said to
send you down as soon as you came in."
"Me?" stammered Tom.

"Yes, you."
For a few seconds Tom waited, not knowing what to say or
do--especially with his feet.
"You didn't notice if Roscoe was down there, did you?" he finally
ventured.
"I most certainly did not," answered Miss Ellison, smiling with that
same mysterious smile, as she tidied up her desk. "I have something
else to think of besides Mr. Roscoe Bent."
Tom shifted from one foot to the other. "I thought you--maybe--kind
of--I thought you liked him," said he.
"Oh, did you?"
He had never been quite so close to Miss Ellison before, nor engaged in
such familiar discourse with her. He hesitated, moving uneasily, then
made a bold plunge.
"I think you can--I think a person--I think a feller can tell if a girl kind
of likes a certain feller--sort of----"
"Indeed!" she laughed. "Well, then, perhaps you can tell if I like
you--sort of."
This was too much for Tom. He wrestled for a moment with his
embarrassment, but he was in for it now, and he was not going to back
out.
"I'm too clumsy for girls," said he; "they always notice that."
"You seem to know all about them," said the girl; "suppose I should tell
you that I never noticed any such thing.--A girl usually notices if a
fellow is strong, though," she added.
"It was being a scout that made me strong."

"There