“Pretty near. Next January.”
“Keep cool till then. We may be in it as a country by then—I hope so. If we are—perhaps you and I——”
Tom thrilled. “Will you go, Doctor?”
“You bet I will! I’d have been off long ago if—— But I can’t tell you the reason just now. Some day, perhaps. Meanwhile——”
He looked at Tom, and Tom looked at him. Then, both of them, for some unexplainable reason, turned and looked toward Black, whose eyes were following them.
“Do you suppose he’ll go if we do declare war?” whispered Tom.
A queer expression crossed Red’s face. “They mostly don’t—his class,” he said, rather contemptuously.
“Do you think—” Tom hesitated—“he’s—just like his class?”
“Not—just like those I’ve known,” admitted Red, grudgingly. “That is—on the surface. Can’t tell how deep the difference goes, yet.”
“I like him!” avowed Tom, honestly.