THE LAST DAY
And out she goes to the seat under the plums.
Jon looks round at us a moment in wonder at it all. Dave goes on:
"To-night, somehow, when I see you and daddy in your uniforms, ready to be sacrificed—that comes close home—when your father and your brother are ready to march to the firing line. I wish to God you hadn't enlisted. I am the one to go. I really have a feeling of hatred for the South to-night for taking you from me. And as you see, I am really the one in the family who has the most pronounced views on the war. Look here, slip off your uniform. We are of about the same size. We look enough alike. They won't know the difference. Let me go in your place! Honest! I'm fighting-crazy, too. I want to go. I've got to go!"
"Dave," I says, nodding after Evelyn, "that hurts her. And what's the use? It's too late. She has trouble of her own. Don't make it worse. She needs protection—needs it bad."
Jon takes Dave, very quiet, by the shoulders, and when he has him eye to eye, he says:
277
