Mr. Winslow stirred uneasily in his chair.  “Now, Phin,” he protested, “seems to me—­”

But Babbitt was too excited to heed.  His little eyes snapped and his bristling beard quivered.

“You hold your horses, Shavin’s,” he ordered.  “I didn’t come here to listen to you.  I came because I had somethin’ to say and when I’ve said it I’m goin’ and goin’ quick.  My boy’s been home.  You knew that, I suppose, didn’t you?”

Jed nodded.  “Yes,” he said, “I knew Leander’d come home for Thanksgivin’.”

“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.  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.”