Jed's foot swung slowly back and forth.
"Well, Phin," he drawled, "to be real honest, I think he put himself up to it."
"You're a liar. YOU did it."
Jed sighed. "Did Leander tell you I did?" he asked.
"No," mockingly, "Leander didn't tell me. You and Sam Hunniwell and the rest of the gang have fixed him so he don't come to his father to tell things any longer. But he told his step-mother this very mornin' and she told me. You was the one that advised him to enlist, he said. Good Lord; think of it! He don't go to his own father for advice; he goes to the town jackass instead, the critter that spends his time whittlin' out young-one's playthings. My Lord A'mighty!"
He spat on the floor to emphasize his disgust. There was an interval of silence before Jed answered.
"Well, Phin," he said, slowly, "you're right, in a way. Leander and I have always been pretty good friends and he's been in the habit of droppin' in here to talk things over with me. When he came to me to ask what he ought to do about enlistin', asked what I'd do if I was he, I told him; that's all there was to it."
Babbitt extended a shaking forefinger.
"Yes, and you told him to go to war. Don't lie out of it now; you know you did."
"Um . . . yes . . . I did."