"Aw--quit yer kiddin'," he paid. "What's soldiers fer?"
Blue Bonnet was not ready with a reply. "You haven't told me your other name," she said. "You took advantage of me. I told you mine."
"It ain't pretty! The kids call me Gaby. That's enough. Call me that."
"August? My birthday is in August; the twenty-first."
"Really?" she said. "Aren't you mistaken? Certain it's the twenty-first?"
He pointed to a nurse who had come to the foot of the bed.
"That's what he has always said," the nurse vouched.
"Well, we're sort of twins, aren't we, Gabriel? If I'm near Boston next summer we'll have to celebrate, won't we?"
The boy nodded. The soldiers were ready to advance upon the enemy now. Birthdays were of small importance.
"Come again some day," Gabriel called when Blue Bonnet took leave of him. "And bring some soldier books with you."
"If you please," the nurse finished for him. "Miss Ashe won't come again if you are not polite."
"If you please," the child repeated dutifully, and Blue Bonnet went back to school, treasuring the look of gratitude that had shone from eyes set like jewels in a wasted and world-old face; a face that belied claim to childhood, and spoke only of suffering and poverty.
The next week she was back again with some books. The soldiers were still lined up for battle. They looked as if they had seen hard service, but their commander eyed them with pride and pleasure.
"They been in battle more 'en fifty times since you was here," he announced. "They've licked everything in sight--the American army has. This is them on this side. I'd like some British fellers if you could get 'em. Did you know we licked the British, sure 'nough?" he asked, as if the war had just ended.
"We surely did," Blue Bonnet said, matching enthusiasm with his. It was strange to see a little Jewish emigrant espousing the cause of freedom so rapturously. "Showed them their proper place, didn't we?"
"Bet yer!" Gabriel said, doubling up his fist and aiming a blow at the pillow behind the soldiers. "Bet yer!"
A vivid crimson spot glowed in each cheek.
"You must hurry and get well, and perhaps some day you can go and see the soldiers. I have a friend who is going to be one. He'll be at West Point next year."