"Good Lord!" said poor Mr. Brougham. "I don't want the boy shot in a trench. I think it's his duty to wait a year or two; but I can't see that he has any enthusiasm, any eagerness, hardly any interest. He seized the paper last evening, and I supposed that he wanted to read about the offensive. Not at all! After a glance at the headlines he turned to the baseball news. Do you understand him?"
"No," said his mother.
"At his age I should have been in this war, with or without my parents' consent. Mind you, I don't want him in it—not for a year or two. But why doesn't he want to get in? He's not a coward."
"No," said his mother, and then she added: "I've thought a great deal about it, and I think it's because he's so young—so immature."
"Immature!" cried Mr. Brougham. "Why, he's always using words I don't know the meaning of!"
"Perhaps he doesn't either," said his wife. "That's immature, isn't it? But I meant the immaturity of not seeing responsibilities—not taking them up, at least. You see, my dear, he's very young—only a year out of school. It's natural enough."
"It's not natural at all," answered Mr. Brougham. "Just out of school—school is the very place to learn patriotism—drilling and all that—and I'm sure Granby is one of the most patriotic men I ever knew. He inspires most of his boys. No, I don't understand. I shall speak to David about his attitude."
"Oh, don't! You'll have him enlisting to-morrow."
"No; for I shall explain to him that he must wait."
She smiled. "You're going to stir him up to want to do something which you won't allow him to do. Is that sensible, dear?"