of power. They had shiny leather puttees. We had tapes. They had
brown shoes--we had not given a fleeting thought to shoes. We might
as well have had congress gaiters! So when the conversation with
Major Murphy turned to a point where he said that he expected us to
go with him to the French front immediately he took a look at our
Sunday best Emporia and Wichita civilian clothes and asked casually,
"Have you gentlemen uniforms?" For me right there the cock crowed
three times. Henry heard it also, and answered slowly, "Well,
no--not exactly."

"Mr. Hoppen," said the Major, "take these gentlemen down the street
and show them where to get uniforms!" Which Mr. Hoppen went and
did. Now Mr. Hoppen is related to the Morgans--the J. Pierpont
Morgans--and he has small notion of Emporia and Wichita. So he took
us to a tailorshop after his own heart. We chose a modest outfit,
with no frills. We ordered one pair of riding breeches each, and
one tunic each, and one American army cap each. The tunic was to
conform to the recent Army regulation for Red Cross tunics, and the
trousers were to match; Henry looked at me and received a distress
signal, but he ignored it and said nonchalantly, "When can we have
them?" The tailor told us to call for a fitting in two weeks, but
we were going to the front before that. That made no difference;
and then Henry came to the real point. "How much," he asked, "will
these be?" The tailor answered in francs and we quickly divided the
sum into dollars. It made $100. "For both?" asked Henry hopefully.
"For each," answered the tailor firmly. There stood Mr. Hoppen, of
Morgans. There also stood Wichita and Emporia. Henry's eyes did not
bat; Mr. Hoppen wore a shimmering Sam Browne belt. Looking casually
at it Henry asked: