"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.

Then he sighed, and resumed his painting.
That afternoon, about half past five, he was still at his task when, hearing the doorbell ring, he rose and went into the front shop.