“Jed,” he ordered, “leave off daubin’ at that wooden doll baby for a minute, will you?  I want to talk to you.  I want to ask you what you think I’d better do.  I know what Gab Bearse—­ Much obliged for that name, Jed; ‘Gab’s’ the best name on earth for that critter—­I know what Gab came in here to talk about.  ’Twas about me and my bein’ put on the Exemption Board, of course.  That was it, wan’t it?  Um-hm, I knew ’twas.  I was the ‘this’ in his ’this and that.’  And Phin Babbitt was the ‘that’; I’ll bet on it.  Am I right?”

Winslow nodded.

“Sure thing!” continued the captain.  “Well, there ’tis.  What am I goin’ to do?  When they wanted me to take the job in the first place I kind of hesitated.  You know I did.  ’Twas bound to be one of those thankless sort of jobs that get a feller into trouble, bound to be.  And yet—­and yet—­well, somebody has to take those kind of jobs.  And a man hadn’t ought to talk all the time about how he wishes he could do somethin’ to help his country, and then lay down and quit on the first chance that comes his way, just ‘cause that chance ain’t—­ain’t eatin’ up all the pie in the state so the Germans can’t get it, or somethin’ like that.  Ain’t that so?”

“Seems so to me, Sam.”

“Yes.  Well, so I said I’d take my Exemption Board job.  But when I said I’d accept it, it didn’t run across my mind that Leander Babbitt was liable to be drafted, first crack out of the box.  Now he is drafted, and, if I know Phin Babbitt, the old man will be down on us Board fellers the first thing to get the boy exempted.  And, I bein’ on the Board and hailin’ from his own town, Orham here, it would naturally be to me that he’d come first.  Eh?  That’s what he’d naturally do, ain’t it?”

His friend nodded once more.  Captain Sam lost patience.

“Gracious king!” he exclaimed.  “Jed Winslow, for thunder sakes say somethin’!  Don’t set there bobbin’ your head up and down like one of those wound-up images in a Christmas-time store window.  I ask you if that ain’t what Phin Babbitt would do?  What would you do if you was in his shoes?”

Jed rubbed his chin.

“Step out of ’em, I guess likely,” he drawled.

“Humph!  Yes—­well, any self-respectin’ person would do that, even if he had to go barefooted the rest of his life.  But, what I’m gettin’ at is this:  Babbitt’ll come to me orderin’ me to get Leander exempted.  And what’ll I say?”

Winslow turned and looked at him.

“Seems to me, Sam,” he answered, “that if that thing happened there’d be only one thing to say.  You’d just have to tell him that you’d listen to his reasons and if they seemed good enough to let the boy off, for your part you’d vote to let him off.  If they didn’t seem good enough—­why—­”

“Well—­what?”

“Why, then Leander’d have to go to war and his dad could go to—­”

“Eh?  Go on.  I want to hear you say it.  Where could he go?”