DANNY DEXTER
They walked through the thronging crowds to the other side of the
little city where the main activity was now located.
Here the soldiers were erecting their tents, arranging their personal
belongings, preparing for their brief stay--for here they were sworn
into the service, and here they hoped to be immediately mustered out.
The great war was over, every man had done his duty, and now they were
back again, each one determined to do better both in position and ways
than when he had left home.
Dorfield was not large enough to import many workers, therefore the
merchants were delighted at the return of its men and impatiently
waited until they should he mustered out. All the old jobs were
awaiting them, with an advance in wages which had followed the
increased cost of living.
There were busy scenes at the cantonment during the next few days while
the officers were dismissing the men who were no longer needed by the
government.
In a short time all of the returned soldiers were hard at work at their
old jobs, except those who were strangers and had no jobs to return
to. The government was supposed to attend to these, but the government
was lax in its duty, and though the number of such men gradually grew
fewer, there were still plenty for Gran’pa Jim and Mary Louise to
choose from. But although the girl begged for this or for that one, the
old gentleman was particular and suspicious.
“Why, I’d as soon have Danny Dexter as that fellow!” he would exclaim,
for Danny Dexter was quite a well known individual by this time. He
would sit upon a taut rope, swinging his feet and smoking his pipe all
day long, and if he was called upon to do anything, he was absolutely
unresponsive. Both in skin and clothing he was dirty and untidy. But he
was a cheery, smiling youth, and the more Mary Louise saw of him the
better she liked him.
As the encampment faded away, Danny Dexter alone remained to say
good-bye, and Mary Louise remarked that none left without a shake of
Danny Dexter’s hand.
Finally he alone remained of the big encampment. The tents had
gradually been struck and carted away to the government storehouse, but
Danny’s tent, with him lazily clinging to the ropes, still remained
to show the place that once had sheltered the Dorfield Regiment. One
day the inspector noticed this and mustered Danny out, too; but that
didn’t seem to make any difference to Danny. He had money, probably
left from his pay, so he still occupied the weather-beaten old tent and
carted his provisions from the village stores, cooking them himself and
gossiping with his old comrades when they were not busy.
“What you goin’ to do, Danny?” he was asked again and again.
“Don’t know yet,” was always the careless reply. “Government seems to
have forgot me just now, so I guess I’ll jus’ hang around here this
summer and when winter comes, go up to New York and see what’s goin’ on
over there. I’m in no great hurry.”
“Why don’t you get a job in Dorfield? It’s a pretty good place and
living is cheaper than in New York.”
“Money don’t interest me much,” was the careless answer. “What a fellow
needs is to see life an’ make the most of it. If you’re happy, money
don’t count.”
“Are you happy now?” they asked him.
“Oh, fairly so, but I’m gettin’ tired doing nothing at all; may skip
out of Dorfield any day, now.”
More than ever, old Mr. Hathaway had met and studied Danny Dexter and
disliked him; and more and more Mary Louise had seen him in the stores
and found him worthy her consideration. Often at dinner or breakfast
the girl and her grandfather spoke of him and disagreed about him.
“We needn’t adopt him for good, you know,” said Mary Louise. “Just
for a few months to see how he works in. And he needn’t be one of the
family or eat with us. He can work in the garden and keep the front
yard cleared up, and in that way he’ll get his living and fair wages.”
“Well,” said Gran’pa Jim, “I’ll speak to Danny Dexter in the morning.”
He did. Next morning he met the boy leaning over the counter at the
grocery store on the corner, where Will White, back at his old job, was
waiting on customers. The old gentleman noticed that Will saluted when
Danny entered the store soon after Gran’pa Jim did.
“Why did you do that?” asked Mary Louise’s grandfather, in a gruff
voice.
“Why, he was our top-sergeant, sir, while I was only a private,”
replied Will, “and I can’t get over the distinction. In the war I _had_
to salute him, and--don’t you know, sir, that Danny Dexter wears a
decoration, or could wear one, if he cared to? But he keeps it buttoned
up tight in his pocket-book. Medal of Distinction or something, earned
by saving the lives of some of the wounded soldiers. Danny was always
modest; they called him ‘The Lamb’ in our regiment--but, gee whiz, how
that lad can fight when he gets the thrills into him!”
All this was said while Top-Sergeant Dexter was in the rear of the
grocery, examining the labels on a vinegar barrel, so he heard nothing
of Will White’s commendation. Shortly after, when Gran’pa Jim had given
his own order, the old gentleman walked over to Dexter and said in his
point-blank way:
“Dexter, do you want a job?”
Danny sat down on a box, scuttled his feet and regarded his
interrogator with a smile that slowly dawned and as slowly faded away.
“I’m getting tired of hanging around here,” he announced. “What sort
of a job have you to offer?”
“Why, I live in that big corner house facing the park. What I want is a
young man to care for my garden--”
“Ah, I love a garden. Flowers are so spicy and bright and fragrant,
don’t you think?”
“And also to clear up the front lawn, and to rake up the leaves, and
see that the living room grate is supplied with firewood, and keep up
the yard generally and to clip the hedges--”
“I see,” said Danny, with another smile; “a sort of Private Secretary
as it were.”
“And attend to any errands my granddaughter may require.”
“I thank you, Mr. ----”
“Hathaway is my name, sir.”
“Mr. Hathaway. The job you offer does not impress me.”
“You fool!” roared the old gentleman, exasperated both by the refusal
and the dignity with which it was made by this uncleanly, disfigured
soldier. “Why do you turn down a position without looking at it? Many a
young fellow in Dorfield would be glad of the offer I have made you.”
He thought how Mary Louise would laugh at him when he told her how,
finally, he had offered “the job” to the solitary soldier and had been
ridiculed and refused. “Walk over with me to my place and inspect the
premises and then you may change your mind.”
“All right!” responded Danny, jumping up with a cheerful face that
betrayed he felt no malice at having been labeled a fool by the
irascible old gentleman. “Let’s walk over and look at your ranch. I
may find it better than I think it is. But I’ve a pretty good estimate
now of an old-fashioned country villa ‘facing the park.’ They’re very
grand, magnificent, you know, and usually belong to the most prosperous
men in town. Come on, Mr. Hathaway.”
“That’s right, Danny,” whispered Will White, as his friend passed out.
“It’s a whale of a place; and then, too, there’s Mary Louise!”