You should have heard us on our way back!

And still we stayed.

* * * * *

Some two years later I was passing this place in company with some friends, when I asked my host, who also knew of the place, to turn in.  During my stay it had been the privilege and custom among those who knew much of this institution to drive through the grounds and past the very doors of the “repair shop,” even to stop if Culhane chanced to be visible and talking to or at least greeting him, in some cases.  A custom of Culhane’s was, in the summer time, to have erected on the lawn a large green-and-white striped marquee tent, a very handsome thing indeed, in which was placed a field-officer’s table and several camp chairs, and some books and papers.  Here of a hot day, when he was not busy with us, he would sit and read.  And when he was in here or somewhere about, a little pennant was run up, possibly as guide to visiting guests or friends.  At any rate, it was the presence of this pennant which caused me to know that he was about and to wish that I might have a look at him once more, great lion that he was.  As “guests,” none of us were ever allowed to come within more than ten feet of it, let alone in it.  As passing visitors, however, we might, and many did, stop, remind him that we had once been his humble slaves, and ask leave to congratulate him on his health and sturdy years.  At such times, if the visitors looked interesting enough, or he remembered them well, he would deign to come to the tent-fly and, standing there a la Napoleon at Lodi or Grant in the Wilderness, be for the first time in his relations with them a bit civil.

Anyway, on this occasion, urged on by curiosity to see my liege once more and also to learn whether he would remember me at all, I had my present host roll his car up to the tent door, where Culhane was reading.  Feeling that by this venturesome deed I had “let myself in for it” and had to “make a showing,” I climbed briskly out and, approaching, recalled myself to him.  With a semi-wry expression, half smile, half contemptuous curl of the corners of his mouth, he recalled me and took my extended hand; then seeing that possibly my friends if not myself looked interesting, he arose and came to the door.  I introduced them—­one a naval officer of distinction, the other the owner of a great estate some miles farther on.  For the first time in my relations with him I had an opportunity to note how grandly gracious he could be.  He accepted my friends’ congratulations as to the view with a princely nod and suggested that on other days it was even better.  He was soon to be busy now or he would have some one show my friends through the shop.  Some Saturday afternoon, if they would telephone or stop in passing, he would oblige.