The big major walked stiffly and pompously along, swinging his
silver-trimmed cane in one hand while Patricia clung to his other arm.
The child wore a plain grey cloak, for the evening was chill. She had
a knack of making her own clothes, all of simple material and fashion,
but fitting neatly and giving her an air of quiet refinement that made
more than one passer-by turn to look back at her curiously.
After threading their way for several blocks they turned in at the
open door of an unobtrusive restaurant where many of the round white
tables were occupied by busy and silent patrons.
The proprietor nodded to the major and gave Patricia a smile. There
was no need to seat them, for they found the little table in the
corner where they were accustomed to eat, and sat down.
"Did you get paid tonight?" asked the girl.
"To be sure, my Patsy."
"Then hand over the coin," she commanded.
The major obeyed. She counted it carefully and placed it in her
pocketbook, afterwards passing a half-dollar back to her father.
"Remember, Major, no riotous living! Make that go as far as you can,
and take care not to invite anyone to drink with you.
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