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from him. Both gave him cursory nods. Hope’s expression was sullen, and the General’s boisterous spirits of a few minutes ago seemed to have fled. Haley supposed that they were still nourishing the unpleasantness of the previous afternoon. Uncomfortable in that sort of silence, Haley tried to break it again. “It’s a nice morning,” he said.
    The General looked up. “Brush your teeth this morning, boy?”
    “Yessir.”
    “Good,” said the General firmly. “Dirtiest place in the world, next to the fingernails, the human mouth is.”
    “Speak for yourself,” muttered Hope. Haley was grateful that only he seemed to have heard her. The General gave no sign, devoting his full attention to the flapjacks Annie had placed before him. As had been the case at supper the night before, the General was the first to be served. Haley gathered that it was customary not to talk during breakfast.
    As he gulped the last of his strong, black coffee, the back door opened, and a muscular, black-haired man, apparently in his thirties, entered. His clothes were threadbare denim, but his manners were wonderfully courtly, Haley thought, and his grooming faultless. His face was shaved and scrubbed to the luster of wax apples, and his heavily pomaded hair resembled a patent-leather helmet. He crossed the room to a chair next to the range, made a brief bow to each person at the table, and sat down.
    “Annie’ll get you some coffee, Mr. Banghart,” said the General. “By the way, you haven’t met my nephew, have you? Mr.
Banghart, this is Haley Brandon. You two will be working together as C-squad on Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays, and Saturday mornings.”
    Haley and Mr. Banghart rose and shook hands. “A pleasure, I’m sure,” said Mr. Banghart.
    “Pleased to meet you,” said Haley. “Are you by any chance the man who was singing in the barn last night?”
    “The same. Did you enjoy it?”
    “You have an awfully good voice, I think,” said Haley.
    Mr. Banghart, who had dropped Haley’s hand, startled him by grabbing it again and squeezing it hard. “That’s the first kind word anybody’s ever had for me,” he said solemnly.
    “That’s simply not so,” said the General, in a half-laughing, patronizing tone.
    Mr. Banghart ignored him. “I’d be glad to sing for you any time,” he said to Haley. “What would you like to hear?”
    Haley was startled by the reaction his pleasantry had started. He had never before set a man seething with gratitude, and the situation confused him. “‘Rock of Ages’ is very nice,” he said at last, recalling that Mr. Banghart had done justice to this hymn the night before.
    Mr. Banghart’s lungs swelled like blacksmiths’ bellows, and the room was filled with his powerful singing voice. Haley took a step backward. The General hammered on the table. “Not during breakfast!” he bawled above the singing, as though he were commanding a regiment.
    Mr. Banghart stopped his singing immediately. “Now you’re against me,” he said reproachfully.

    “Oh, for Heaven’s sake, I am not against you,” said the General irritably, “but I certainly will be if you do that again.”
    “Sorry,” said Mr. Banghart, “but more for your sake than for mine.” He shrugged and resumed his seat by the range.
    “All right, all right,” said the General soothingly. He looked up at the clock and fidgeted. “Now where’s that Kitty?” he said. “What time did she get in last night, Annie?”
    “Three in the morning,” said Annie, handing Mr. Banghart his coffee. “She was out with that Roy Flemming again,” she added. Haley saw Hope glare at her sister.
    “That’s the end, the absolute end,” said the General. “You can tell her, when she gets up, that every minute after six that she slept is one weekend night that she has to stay in. You can also tell her that Mr. Flemming and his motorcycle are no longer welcome at Ardennes Farm. Put that on the bulletin board,” he ordered.
    Annie