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He smiled a little at my faith, and said editors sometimes did not
know about everything that was in their papers. I turned to go,
grievously disappointed, but he called me back.
"Have you," he said, looking searchingly at me, "have you
had your breakfast?"
No, God knows that I had not: neither that day nor for many days
before. That was one of the things I had at last learned to consider
among the superfluities of an effete civilization. I suppose I had
no need of telling it to him, for it was plain to read in my face.
He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a dollar.
"There," he said, "go and get your breakfast; and better give up
the war."
Give up the war! and for a breakfast. I spurned the dollar hotly.
"I came here to enlist, not to beg money for breakfast," I said,
and strode out of the office, my head in the air but my stomach
crying out miserably in rebellion against my pride. I revenged
myself upon it by leaving my top-boots with the "uncle," who was
my only friend and relative here, and filling my stomach upon the
proceeds.


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