"
"Oh, you did! He came here to this shop to see you, maybe? Humph!
I'll bet he did, the poor fool!"
Again Jed shifted his position. His hands clasped about his knee
and his foot lifted from the floor.
"There, there, Phin," he said gently; "after all, he's your only
son, you know."
"I know it. But he's a fool just the same."
"Now, Phin! The boy'll be goin' to war pretty soon, you know, and--"
Babbitt sprang to his feet. His chin trembled so that he could
scarcely speak.
"Shut up!" he snarled. "Don't let me hear you say that again, Jed
Winslow. Who sent him to war? Who filled his head full of rubbish
about patriotism, and duty to the country, and all the rest of the
rotten Wall Street stuff? Who put my boy up to enlistin', Jed
Winslow?"
Jed's foot swung slowly back and forth.
"Well, Phin," he drawled, "to be real honest, I think he put
himself up to it."
"You're a liar. YOU did it."
Jed sighed. "Did Leander tell you I did?" he asked.
"No," mockingly, "Leander didn't tell me. You and Sam Hunniwell
and the rest of the gang have fixed him so he don't come to his
father to tell things any longer. But he told his step-mother this
very mornin' and she told me. You was the one that advised him to
enlist, he said. Good Lord; think of it! He don't go to his own
father for advice; he goes to the town jackass instead, the critter
that spends his time whittlin' out young-one's playthings.
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