Part 5 (2/2)

”Everybody who has a part in it--whether he fights as a soldier or only knits like the Red Cross girls--will be telling about it for years after,” went on the girl, and she looked at Tom eagerly.

”Yes,” he agreed. ”These are queer times. We don't know exactly where we're at. A lot of our men have been called. We tried to have some of them exempted, and did manage it in a few cases.”

”You did?” cried Mr. Nestor, as if in surprise. ”You stopped men from going to war!”

”Only so they could work on airs.h.i.+p motors for the Government,” Tom quietly explained.

”Oh! Well, of course, that's part of the game,” agreed Mary's father.

”A lot more of our boys are going off next week. Doesn't it make you thrill, Tom, when you see them marching off, even if they haven't their uniforms yet? Jove, if I wasn't too old, I'd go in a minute!”

”Father!” cried Mary.

”Yes, I would!” he declared. ”The German government has got to be beaten, and we've got to do our bit; everybody has--man, woman and child!”

”Yes,” agreed Tom, in a low voice, ”that's very true. But every one, in a sense, has to judge for himself what the 'bit' is. We can't all do the same.”

There was a little silence, and then Mary went over to the piano and played. It was a rather welcome relief, under the circ.u.mstances, from the conversation.

”Mary, what do you think of Tom?” asked Mr. Nestor, when the visitor had gone.

”What do I think of him?” And she blushed.

”I mean about his not enlisting. Do you think he's a slacker?”

”A slacker? Why, Father!”

”Oh, I don't mean he's afraid. We've seen proof enough of his courage, and all that. But I mean don't you think he wants stirring up a bit?”

”He is going to Was.h.i.+ngton to-morrow, Father. He told me so to-night.

And it may be--”

”Oh, well, then maybe it's all right,” hastily said Mr. Nestor. ”He may be going to get a commission in the engineer corps. It isn't like Tom Swift to hang back, and yet it does begin to look as though he cared more for his queer inventions--machines that b.u.t.t down fences than for helping Uncle Sam. But I'll reserve judgment.”

”You'd better, Father!” and Mary laughed--a little. Yet there was a worried look on her face.

During the next few nights Mr. Nestor made it a habit to take the short cut from the railroad station, coming past the big fence that enclosed one particular building of the Swift plant.

”I wonder if there's a hole where I could look through,” said Mr.

Nestor to himself. ”Of course I don't believe in spying on what another man is doing, and yet I'm too good a friend of Tom's to want to see him make a fool of himself. He ought to be in the army, or helping Uncle Sam in some way. And yet if he spends all his time on some foolish contraption, like a new kind of traction plow, what good is that? If I could get a glimpse of it, I might drop a friendly hint in his ear.”

But there were no cracks in the fence, or, if there were, it was too dark to see them, and also too dark to behold anything on the other side of the barrier. So Mr. Nestor, wondering much, kept on his way.

It was a day or so after this that Ned Newton paid a visit to the Swift home. Mr. Swift was not in the house, being out in one of the various buildings, Mrs. Baggert said.

”Where's Tom?” asked the bond salesman.

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