Then came the mounting
guard business. By and by Preston came to me.
"Awfully hot, Daisy!" he said.
"Yes, you are out in it," I said, compassionately.
"What are _you_ out in it for?"
"Why, I like it," I said. "How come you to be one of the red
sashes this morning?"
"I have been an officer of the guard this last twenty-four
hours."
"Since yesterday morning?"
"Yes."
"Do you like it, Preston?"
"_Like_ it!" he said. "Like guard duty! Why, Daisy, when a
fellow has left his shoe-string untied, or something or other
like that, they put him on extra guard duty to punish him."
"Did you ever do so, Preston?"
"Did I ever do so?" he repeated savagely. "Do you think I have
been raised like a Yankee, to take care of my shoes? That
Blunt is just fit to stand behind a counter and measure
inches!"
I was very near laughing, but Preston's mood would not bear
that.
"I don't think it is beneath a gentleman to keep his shoe-
strings tied," I said.
"A gentleman can't always think of everything!" was Preston's
answer.
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