“And yet I presume you could make more in some other way.  Working in these shops, for instance.”

“There’s nothin’ sure about them,” said Watts.

“The army’s certain.  And I like things to move on decent and orderly like.  For one that’s willing to recognize his betters, the service is a good place, Miss Jones.”

“But I suppose there are some not willing to recognize their betters,” ventured Kate.

“There’s all too many such,” said Watts.  “All too many nowadays thinks they’re just as good as them that’s above them.”

“But you never feel that way, so you are contented and like the service, Watts?”

“Yes, Miss.  It suits me well enough, Miss Jones.  I’m not one to think I can make over the world.  There’s a fellow workin’ up here at the point I sometimes have some conversation with.  I was up there to-night at sundown—­me and the little boy.  Now there’s a man, Miss, that don’t know his place.  He’s a trouble-maker.  He said to me tonight—­”

But as Watts was there joined by a fellow-soldier Katie said:  “Thank you for looking out for the poor little dog, Watts,” and turned reluctantly to the house.

She would like to have remained; she would like to have talked with the other soldier and found out why he entered the service and what he thought of it.  She was possessed of a great desire to ask people questions, find out why they had done what they did and what they thought about things other people were doing.  Her mind was sending out little shoots in all directions and those little shoots were begging for food and drink.

She wished she might have a long talk with the “trouble-maker.”  She would like to talk about dogs who had lived in alleys and dogs that had been reared in kennels, about soldiers who were willing to recognize their betters and soldiers who thought they were as good as some above them.  She would like to talk about Watts.  Watts was the son of an old English servant.  It was in Watts’ blood to “recognize his betters.”  Was that why he could be moved to no sense of responsibility about stray dogs?  Was that why he was a good man for the service and had no ambitions as civilian?

And Ann—­she would like to talk to the boat-mending trouble-maker about Ann:  Why Ann, whom one would expect to find sympathetic with the homeless, should be so hard and so queer about forlorn little stray dogs.  Oh the world was just full of things that Katie Jones wanted to talk about that night!

When she reached the house she found that she had just received a package by special messenger.  She tore off the outer wrapper and on the inner was written in red ink:  “Danger.”  Murmuring some inane thing about its being her shoes, she ran with the package to her room.  For a young woman who had all her life received packages of all kinds she was inordinately excited.

It held three books.  One of them was about women who worked.  There were pictures of girls working in factories and in different places.  One was something about evolution, and one was on socialism.  And there was a pamphlet about the United States Army, and another pamphlet about religion.