" She
paused and looked at him curiously. "How did you know they called
them hangars, Jed?" she asked.
"Eh? . . . Oh, I've read about 'em in the newspapers, that's
all. . . . H-u-u-m. . . . So we'll have aeroplanes flyin' around
here pretty soon, I suppose. Well, well!"
"Yes. And there'll be lots and lots of the flying men--the what-
do-you-call-'ems--aviators, and officers in uniform--and all sorts.
What fun! I'm just crazy about uniforms!"
Her eyes snapped. Jed, in his quiet way, seemed excited, too. He
was gazing absently out of the window as if he saw, in fancy, a
procession of aircraft flying over Orham flats.
"They'll be flyin' up out there," he said, musingly. "And I'll see
'em--I will. Sho!"
Miss Hunniwell regarded him mischievously. "Jed," she asked,
"would you like to be an aviator?"
Jed's answer was solemnly given. "I'm afraid I shouldn't be much
good at the job," he drawled.
His visitor burst into another laugh. He looked at her over his
glasses.
"What is it?" he asked.
"Oh, nothing; I--I was just thinking of you in a uniform, that's
all."
Jed smiled his slow, fleeting smile.
"I guess likely I would be pretty funny," he admitted. "Any
Germans I met would probably die laughin' and that might help along
some."
But after Miss Hunniwell had gone he sat for some minutes gazing
out of the window, the wistful, dreamy look on his lean, homely
face.
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