All day long I wondered at his secret, for he was so unlike any man I
had seen in France in the way he had won the hearts of the boys. I was
curious to know. Something in his eyes made me think of Lincoln. They
had a look like Lincoln in their depths.
That night when I was about to leave I blunderingly stumbled on his
secret. About the only ornament in his bare pine room in the hut was a
picture on the desk. I seized on it immediately, for next to a
sweet-faced baby about the finest thing on earth to look at is a boy
between five and twelve. And here were two, dressed in plaid suits,
with white collars, tousled hair, clean, fine American boys.