"Captain, I've already forgotten it." (Pop thinks he's doing me a favor!) "Thank you, sir!"

"Not at all. Dismissed."

DA CAPO-VII

Staff Sergeant Theodore Bronson found Kansas City changed-uniforms everywhere, posters everywhere. Uncle Sam stared out at him: "I want you for the United States Army." A Red Cross nurse was shown holding a wounded man in a stretcher as if he were a baby, with the one word:

"GIVE." A sign on a restaurant said: "We Observe All Meatless, Wheatless, and Sweetless Days." Service flags were in many windows-he counted five stars on one, saw several with gold stars.

More traffic than he recalled and streetcars were crowded, many passengers in uniform-it seemed as if all of Camp Funston and every camp or fort within reaching distance had all been dumped into the city at once. Untrue, he knew, but the train he had dozed in most of last night had been so jammed that it seemed true.

That "Khaki Special" had been almost as dirty as a cattle train and even slower; it had sidetracked again and again in favor of freights, and once for a troop train. Lazarus arrived in Kansas City late in the morning, tired and filthy-having left camp clean and rested. But he had his battered old grip with him and planned to correct both conditions before seeing his "adopted" family.

Waving a five-dollar bill in front of the railroad station got him a taxi, but the hackie insisted on picking up three more passengers going south after asking what direction Lazarus was going. The taxicab was a Ford landaulet like his own, but in much worse condition. The glass partition between front and back seats (the feature that made it a "limousine") had been removed, and the collapsible half-top of the rear compartment appeared to have collapsed for the last time. But with five in it, plus baggage on knees, ventilation was welcome. The driver said, "Sergeant, you were first. Where to?"

Lazarus said that he wanted to find a hotel room out south, near Thirty-first.

"You're an optimist-hard enough to find one downtown. But we'll try. Drop these other gentlemen first, maybe?"

Eventually he wound up near Thirty-first and Main-"Permanent and Transient-all rooms & apts. with bath." The driver said, "This joint costs too much-but it's this or go back downtown. No, keep your money till we see if they can take you. You about to go overseas?"

"So I hear."

"So your fare is a dollar; I don't take no tips from a man about to go over-I got a boy 'Over There.' Le'me talk to that clerk."

Ten minutes later Lazarus was luxuriating in the first tub bath he had had since April 6, 1917. Then he slept three hours. When his inner alarm woke him, he dressed in clean clothes from skin out, his best uniform-the breeches he had retailored for a smarter peg at the knee. He went down to the lobby and telephoned his family's home.

Carol answered and squealed. "Oh! Mama, it's Uncle Ted!"

Maureen Smith's voice was serenely warm. "Where are you, Sergeant Theodore? Brian Junior wants to go fetch you home."

"Please tell him thanks, Mrs. Smith, but I'm in a hotel at the Thirty-first Street car line; I'll be there before he could get here-if I'm welcome."

"'Welcome'? What a way for our adopted soldier to talk. You don't belong in a hotel; you must stay here. Brian-my husband, I mean, the Captain-told us to expect you and that you were to stay with us. Did he not tell you so?"

"Ma'am, I've seen the Captain just once, three weeks ago. So far as I know, he doesn't know I'm on leave." Lazarus added, "I don't want to put you out."

"Pish and tush, Sergeant Theodore, let's have no more of that. At the beginning of the war we changed the maid's room downstairs-my sewing room, where you played chess with Woodrow-into a guest room, so that the Captain could bring a brother officer home on a weekend. Must I tell my husband that you refused to sleep there?"

(Maureen my love, that's putting the cat too close to the canary! I won't sleep; I'll lie awake thinking about you upstairs-surrounded by kids and Gramp.) "Mrs. Captain generous hostess ma'am, I'll be utterly delighted to sleep in your sewing room."

"That's better, Sergeant. For a moment I thought Mama was going to have to spank."

Brian Junior was waiting at, the Benton car stop, with George as footman, and with Carol and Marie in the back seat. George grabbed the grip and took charge of it; Marie shrilled, "My, doesn't Uncle Ted look pretty!" and Carol corrected her:

"Handsome, Marie. Soldiers look handsome and smart, not 'pretty.' Isn't that right, Uncle Ted?"

Lazarus picked the smaller girl up by her elbows and kissed her cheek, set her down. "Technically correct, Carol-but 'pretty' suits me just fine if Marie thinks I am. Quite a welcoming committee-do I run along behind?"

"You sit in the tonneau with the girls," Brian Junior ruled. "But look at this first!" He pointed. "A foot throttle! Isn't that bully?"

Lazarus agreed, then took a few moments to inspect the car-in better shape than he had left it, shining and clean from spokes to top and with several new items besides the foot accelerator: a dressy radiator cap, rubber nonskids for the pedals, a tire holder on the rear with a patent-leather cover for a spare tire, a robe rail in the rear compartment with a lap robe folded neatly, and-finishing touch-a cut-glass bud vase with a single rose. "Is the engine kept as beautifully as the rest?"

George opened the hood. Lazarus looked and nodded approvingly. "It could take a white-glove inspection."

"That's exactly what Grandpa gives it," Brian declared. "He says if we don't take care of it, we can't use it."

"You do take care of it."

Lazarus arrived in royal splendor, one arm around a big little girl, the other around a small little girl. Gramp was waiting on the front porch, came down the walk to meet him, and Lazarus suddenly revised his mental image: The old soldier was in uniform and seemed a foot taller and ramrod straight-ribbons on his chest, chevrons on his sleeves, puttees most carefully rolled, campaign hat perched high and turned up slightly behind.

As Lazarus turned from handing Carol out, Marie having danced ahead, Gramp paused and threw Lazarus a sweeping Throckmartin salute. "Welcome home, Sergeant!"

Lazarus returned it as flamboyantly. "Thank you, Sergeant; I'm glad to be here." He added, "Mr. Johnson, you didn't tell me you were a supply sergeant."

"Somebody has to count the socks. I agreed to take-"

The rest was lost to Woodie's explosive arrival. "Hey, Uncle Sergeant! You're going to play chess with me!"

"Sure, Sport," Lazarus agreed, his attention distracted by two other things: Mrs. Smith at the open door, and a service flag in the parlor window. Three stars- Three?

Then Gramp was urging him in with something about this being a drill night so supper would be early. Nancy kissed him, openly and without glancing first for her mother's approval-then Dickie had to be picked up and kissed, and Baby Ethel (walking!), and at last Maureen gave him her slender hand, drew him to her, and brushed his cheek with her lips. "Sergeant Theodore...it is so good to have you home."

Supper was a noisy, well-run circus, with Gramp presiding in lieu of his son-in-law, while his daughter ran things with serene dignity from the other end and did not get up once Lazarus placed her chair under her and took his seat of honor on her right. Her three oldest daughters did all that was necessary. Ethel sat in a highchair on her mother's left with George helping her-Lazarus learned that this duty rotated among the five eldest.