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Lincoln, Joseph Crosby, 1870-1944

"Shavings"

My Lord
A'mighty!"
He spat on the floor to emphasize his disgust. There was an
interval of silence before Jed answered.
"Well, Phin," he said, slowly, "you're right, in a way. Leander
and I have always been pretty good friends and he's been in the
habit of droppin' in here to talk things over with me. When he
came to me to ask what he ought to do about enlistin', asked what
I'd do if I was he, I told him; that's all there was to it."
Babbitt extended a shaking forefinger.
"Yes, and you told him to go to war. Don't lie out of it now; you
know you did."
"Um . . . yes . . . I did."
"You did? You DID? And you have the cheek to own up to it right
afore my face."
Jed's hand stroked his chin. "W-e-e-ll," he drawled, "you just
ordered me not to lie out of it, you know. Leander asked me right
up and down if I wouldn't enlist if I was in his position.
Naturally, I said I would."
"Yes, you did. And you knew all the time how I felt about it, you
SNEAK."
Jed's foot slowly sank to the floor and just as slowly he hoisted
himself from the chair.
"Phin," he said, with deliberate mildness, "is there anything else
you'd like to ask me? 'Cause if there isn't, maybe you'd better
run along."
"You sneakin' coward!"
"Er--er--now--now, Phin, you didn't understand. I said 'ask' me,
not 'call' me."
"No, I didn't come here to ask you anything.


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