Petty facts, all, but possibly more significant than appeared. I
made up my mind to find the boy who brought the bouquet and also
the one who carried back her message.
But here a surprise, if not a check, awaited me. The florist's boy
had left his place and no one could tell where he had gone. Neither
could I find the curly-haired waiter at Raucher's. He had left also,
but it was to join the volunteers at San Antonio.
Was there meaning in this coincidence? I resolved to know. Visiting
the former haunts of both boys, I failed to come upon any evidence
of an understanding between them, or of their having shown any
special interest in the Jeffrey tragedy. Both seemed to have been
strangely reticent in regard to it, the florist's boy showing
stupidity and the waiter such satisfaction in his prospective
soldiering that no other topic was deemed worthy his attention. The
latter had a sister and she could not say enough of the delight her
brother had shown at the prospect of riding a horse again and of
fighting in such good company. He had had some experience as a
cowboy before coming to Washington, and from the moment war was
declared had expressed his intention of joining the recruits for
Cuba as soon as he could see her so provided for that his death would
not rob her of proper support.
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