mush all the time
now. I'm sick of it!"

"How about my feelings, Billy?" Merry demanded. "Have you no pity for
me?"

"Why should I?" he retorted. "It's all your fault.--Uncle Monty,
wouldn't you like to have Merry in the family?"

"I certainly would," was the frank response spoken with a sincerity
which gave the boy unbounded encouragement.

"Now you've said something!" Billy exclaimed and he turned to Merry with
a gesture of finality! "I want you in the family, Uncle Monty wants you,
Phil wants me for a brother-in-law--"

"I'm not so sure," Philip interrupted.

"Oh, yes, he does," Billy continued unabashed.--"So it's up to you. Will
you make us all happy, or will you send me to meet my fate amid the
horrors of war?"

"That'll be about all of that," Philip said, scowling. "We came out here
to talk war and not nonsense. I won't stand for it!"

"We mustn't get these two great questions confused, Billy," Huntington
said soothingly. "I have something to tell you later which may solve one
of them, and we should approach the other with a calm and judicial mind.
I haven't any right to advise you, Philip, for your mother and father
probably have definite ideas which must be respected; but if a way could
be found for Billy to have some of the experiences over there without
running too much danger, I should be inclined to throw my influence in
favor of his going."

"Hurrah!" Billy cried.

"That is all I could possibly expect, Mr. Huntington," Philip
acknowledged. "If Billy is allowed to go, I'm sure Mother and Dad will
consent."

"Very good. I promise you to look into it carefully, and Billy will keep
you posted as to the result."

"What's the other solution?" Billy asked suspiciously.

"I'll tell you later.--Now let me speak with the others. There is
nothing more for us to talk about, is there?"

"I'm sorry I spoke so lightly about the war," Philip said, grasping
Huntington's hand as they separated. "I have fighting in my blood
somewhere, and I'm so excited over it all that I forget myself
sometimes."

"War means to forget one's self at all times, my boy," Huntington
answered kindly. "With all its savagery, with all its brutal return to
primeval instincts, the sacrifices and the heroism it calls for ennoble
those who are drawn into its hideous vortex. No man can once feel this
and ever again look upon life in a small way. That is why, under certain
circumstances, I might favor Billy's desire."

"That is my