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"
Here
!
"
cried
Benjamin
desperately
.
"
Read
this
.
"
And
he
thrust
his
commission
toward
the
colonel
.
The
colonel
read
it
,
his
eyes
popping
from
their
sockets
.
"
Where
'd
you
get
this
?
"
he
demanded
,
slipping
the
document
into
his
own
pocket
.
"
I
got
it
from
the
Government
,
as
you
'll
soon
find
out
!
"
"
You
come
along
with
me
,
"
said
the
colonel
with
a
peculiar
look
.
"
We
'll
go
up
to
headquarters
and
talk
this
over
.
Come
along
.
"
The
colonel
turned
and
began
walking
his
horse
in
the
direction
of
headquarters
.
There
was
nothing
for
Benjamin
to
do
but
follow
with
as
much
dignity
as
possible
--
meanwhile
promising
himself
a
stern
revenge
.
But
this
revenge
did
not
materialise
.
Two
days
later
,
however
,
his
son
Roscoe
materialised
from
Baltimore
,
hot
and
cross
from
a
hasty
trip
,
and
escorted
the
weeping
general
,
sans
uniform
,
back
to
his
home
.
In
1920
Roscoe
Button
's
first
child
was
born
.
During
the
attendant
festivities
,
however
,
no
one
thought
it
"
the
thing
"
to
mention
,
that
the
little
grubby
boy
,
apparently
about
ten
years
of
age
who
played
around
the
house
with
lead
soldiers
and
a
miniature
circus
,
was
the
new
baby
's
own
grandfather
.
No
one
disliked
the
little
boy
whose
fresh
,
cheerful
face
was
crossed
with
just
a
hint
of
sadness
,
but
to
Roscoe
Button
his
presence
was
a
source
of
torment
.
In
the
idiom
of
his
generation
Roscoe
did
not
consider
the
matter
"
efficient
.
"
It
seemed
to
him
that
his
father
,
in
refusing
to
look
sixty
,
had
not
behaved
like
a
"
red-blooded
he-man
"
--
this
was
Roscoe
's
favourite
expression
--
but
in
a
curious
and
perverse
manner
.
Indeed
,
to
think
about
the
matter
for
as
much
as
a
half
an
hour
drove
him
to
the
edge
of
insanity
.
Roscoe
believed
that
"
live
wires
"
should
keep
young
,
but
carrying
it
out
on
such
a
scale
was
--
was
--
was
inefficient
.
And
there
Roscoe
rested
.
Five
years
later
Roscoe
's
little
boy
had
grown
old
enough
to
play
childish
games
with
little
Benjamin
under
the
supervision
of
the
same
nurse
.
Roscoe
took
them
both
to
kindergarten
on
the
same
day
,
and
Benjamin
found
that
playing
with
little
strips
of
coloured
paper
,
making
mats
and
chains
and
curious
and
beautiful
designs
,
was
the
most
fascinating
game
in
the
world
.
Once
he
was
bad
and
had
to
stand
in
the
corner
--
then
he
cried
--
but
for
the
most
part
there
were
gay
hours
in
the
cheerful
room
,
with
the
sunlight
coming
in
the
windows
and
Miss
Bailey
's
kind
hand
resting
for
a
moment
now
and
then
in
his
tousled
hair
.
Roscoe
's
son
moved
up
into
the
first
grade
after
a
year
,
but
Benjamin
stayed
on
in
the
kindergarten
.
He
was
very
happy
.
Sometimes
when
other
tots
talked
about
what
they
would
do
when
they
grew
up
a
shadow
would
cross
his
little
face
as
if
in
a
dim
,
childish
way
he
realised
that
those
were
things
in
which
he
was
never
to
share
.
The
days
flowed
on
in
monotonous
content
.
He
went
back
a
third
year
to
the
kindergarten
,
but
he
was
too
little
now
to
understand
what
the
bright
shining
strips
of
paper
were
for
.
He
cried
because
the
other
boys
were
bigger
than
he
,
and
he
was
afraid
of
them
.
The
teacher
talked
to
him
,
but
though
he
tried
to
understand
he
could
not
understand
at
all
.
He
was
taken
from
the
kindergarten
.
His
nurse
,
Nana
,
in
her
starched
gingham
dress
,
became
the
centre
of
his
tiny
world
.
On
bright
days
they
walked
in
the
park
;
Nana
would
point
at
a
great
gray
monster
and
say
"
elephant
,
"
and
Benjamin
would
say
it
after
her
,
and
when
he
was
being
undressed
for
bed
that
night
he
would
say
it
over
and
over
aloud
to
her
:
"
Elyphant
,
elyphant
,
elyphant
.
"
Sometimes
Nana
let
him
jump
on
the
bed
,
which
was
fun
,
because
if
you
sat
down
exactly
right
it
would
bounce
you
up
on
your
feet
again
,
and
if
you
said
"
Ah
"
for
a
long
time
while
you
jumped
you
got
a
very
pleasing
broken
vocal
effect
.
He
loved
to
take
a
big
cane
from
the
hat-rack
and
go
around
hitting
chairs
and
tables
with
it
and
saying
:
"
Fight
,
fight
,
fight
.
"
When
there
were
people
there
the
old
ladies
would
cluck
at
him
,
which
interested
him
,
and
the
young
ladies
would
try
to
kiss
him
,
which
he
submitted
to
with
mild
boredom
.
And
when
the
long
day
was
done
at
five
o'clock
he
would
go
upstairs
with
Nana
and
be
fed
on
oatmeal
and
nice
soft
mushy
foods
with
a
spoon
.
There
were
no
troublesome
memories
in
his
childish
sleep
;
no
token
came
to
him
of
his
brave
days
at
college
,
of
the
glittering
years
when
he
flustered
the
hearts
of
many
girls
.
There
were
only
the
white
,
safe
walls
of
his
crib
and
Nana
and
a
man
who
came
to
see
him
sometimes
,
and
a
great
big
orange
ball
that
Nana
pointed
at
just
before
his
twilight
bed
hour
and
called
"
sun
.
"
When
the
sun
went
his
eyes
were
sleepy
--
there
were
no
dreams
,
no
dreams
to
haunt
him
.
The
past
--
the
wild
charge
at
the
head
of
his
men
up
San
Juan
Hill
;
the
first
years
of
his
marriage
when
he
worked
late
into
the
summer
dusk
down
in
the
busy
city
for
young
Hildegarde
whom
he
loved
;
the
days
before
that
when
he
sat
smoking
far
into
the
night
in
the
gloomy
old
Button
house
on
Monroe
Street
with
his
grandfather-all
these
had
faded
like
unsubstantial
dreams
from
his
mind
as
though
they
had
never
been
.
He
did
not
remember
.
