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!”