. . . I'd be a sight, though, wouldn't I?" he
added, his lip twitching in the fleeting smile. "What do you think
the Commodore, or General, or whoever 'tis bosses things at the
camp, would say when he saw me? He'd think the flagpole had grown
feet, and was walkin' round, I cal'late."
He asked his young friend what reception he met with upon his
return home. Leander smiled ruefully.
"My step-mother seemed glad enough to see me," he said. "She and I
had some long talks on the subject and I think she doesn't blame me
much for going into the service. I told her the whole story and,
down in her heart, I believe she thinks I did right."
Jed nodded. "Don't see how she could help it," he said. "How does
your dad take it?"
Leander hesitated. "Well," he said, "you know Father. He doesn't
change his mind easily. He and I didn't get as close together as I
wish we could. And it wasn't my fault that we didn't," he added,
earnestly.
Jed understood. He had known Phineas Babbitt for many years and he
knew the little man's hard, implacable disposition and the violence
of his prejudices.
"Um-hm," he said. "All the same, Leander, I believe your father
thinks more of you than he does of anything else on earth."
"I shouldn't wonder if you was right, Jed. But on the other hand
I'm afraid he and I will never be the same after I come back from
the war--always providing I do come back, of course.
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