“Well, I did think about the O. T. C.,� answered Jeff; “but I felt sorry for those poor officers. It seemed to me they need a few privates under them; so I decided to be in the ranks. And I’m going to try to get with Northern boys.�
“Jeff Spencer! Why——�
“So I can do missionary work,� he explained. “Those Harvard chaps I met on our last game—bully fellows they were!—thought the old United States began in 1620 on Plymouth Rock. I broke to ’em the news about 1607 and Jamestown,—that before their Mayflower sailed, Virginia was here, with a House of Burgesses standing for freemen’s rights, just as we’re standing to-day. Hurrah for Jamestown and Woodrow Wilson!�
The enthusiasm excited by the President’s message and the volunteers extended to the smallest small boys. For weeks they had been carrying on a war play on their way home from school. Now the game was blocked. The boys who had composed the kaiser’s forces refused to be Germans; they were Americans.
At last, after a whispered consultation with Jeff Spencer, Joe Eppes said with a grin: “Oh, wait a minute. I’ll be the Germans one more time; I’ll be them all, kaiser and generals and army.�
He ran home and soon came back, wearing a German helmet made of an old derby hat with a tin oil can fastened on top of it.
He did the goosestep backward down the hill, shouting, “On! on! on! straight to Paris!� At Tinkling Water, he swaggered on the foot log and tumbled, with a mighty splash, into the water, to the huge delight of the other children who loudly applauded the ignominious end of the German forces.
CHAPTER VI
THE first Saturday afternoon in May found a busy group of ladies and girls in the big parlor at Broad Acres which Mrs. Wilson had given up to Red Cross work.
Saturday was usually sacred to needle and broom and cookstove, in preparation for the quiet, strictly kept Presbyterian Sunday; but to-day was an exception. A Red Cross box was to be sent off next week, and everything else was put aside to get it ready.