Part 44 (1/2)
Jed understood. He had known Phineas Babbitt for many years and he knew the little man's hard, implacable disposition and the violence of his prejudices.
”Um-hm,” he said. ”All the same, Leander, I believe your father thinks more of you than he does of anything else on earth.”
”I shouldn't wonder if you was right, Jed. But on the other hand I'm afraid he and I will never be the same after I come back from the war--always providing I do come back, of course.”
”Sshh, sshh! Don't talk that way. Course you'll come back.”
”You never can tell. However, if I knew I wasn't going to, it wouldn't make any difference in my feelings about going. I'm glad I enlisted and I'm mighty thankful to you for backing me up in it.
I shan't forget it, Jed.”
”Sho, sho! It's easy to tell other folks what to do. That's how the Kaiser earns his salary; only he gives advice to the Almighty, and I ain't got as far along as that yet.”
They discussed the war in general and by sections. Just before he left, young Babbitt said:
”Jed, there is one thing that worries me a little in connection with Father. He was bitter against the war before we went into it and before he and Cap'n Sam Hunniwell had their string of rows.
Since then and since I enlisted he has been worse than ever. The things he says against the government and against the country make ME want to lick him--and I'm his own son. I am really scared for fear he'll get himself jailed for being a traitor or something of that sort.”
Mr. Winslow asked if Phineas' feeling against Captain Hunniwell had softened at all. Leander's reply was a vigorous negative.
”Not a bit,” he declared. ”He hates the cap'n worse than ever, if that's possible, and he'll do him some bad turn some day, if he can, I'm afraid. You must think it's queer my speaking this way of my own father,” he added. ”Well, I don't to any one else. Somehow a fellow always feels as if he could say just what he thinks to you, Jed Winslow. I feel that way, anyhow.”
He and Jed shook hands at the door in the early November twilight.
Leander was to eat his Thanksgiving dinner at home and then leave for camp on the afternoon train.
”Well, good-by,” he said.
Jed seemed loath to relinquish the handclasp.
”Oh, don't say good-by; it's just 'See you later,'” he replied.
Leander smiled. ”Of course. Well, then, see you later, Jed.
We'll write once in a while; eh?”
Jed promised. The young fellow strode off into the dusk. Somehow, with his square shoulders and his tanned, resolute country face, he seemed to typify Young America setting cheerfully forth to face-- anything--that Honor and Decency may still be more than empty words in this world of ours.
CHAPTER XIV
The Hunniwell Thanksgiving dinner was an entire success. Even Captain Sam himself was forced to admit it, although he professed to do so with reluctance.
”Yes,” he said, with an elaborate wink in the direction of his guests, ”it's a pretty good dinner, considerin' everything. Of course 'tain't what a feller used to get down at Sam Coy's eatin'- house on Atlantic Avenue, but it's pretty good--as I say, when everything's considered.”
His daughter was highly indignant. ”Do you mean to say that this dinner isn't as good as those you used to get at that Boston restaurant, Pa?” she demanded. ”Don't you dare say such a thing.”
Her father tugged at his beard and looked tremendously solemn.
”Well,” he observed, ”as a boy I was brought up to always speak the truth and I've tried to live up to my early trainin'. Speakin' as a truthful man, then, I'm obliged to say that this dinner ain't like those I used to get at Sam Coy's.”
Ruth put in a word. ”Well, then, Captain Hunniwell,” she said, ”I think the restaurant you refer to must be one of the best in the world.”