Besides, Dan Webster, released from his attention to Sally, had walked over and stood facing his mother and brother.
The two brothers, though, twins, were utterly unlike in appearance. For one thing, Dan was nearly six feet tall and splendidly built, with a vivid color and a suggestion of unusual physical health and power.
"I am sorry, Mother," he said in the voice he kept especially for his mother, "but I can't stay here and listen to Billy's nonsense and disloyalty. He is simply in love with the sound of his own voice and always has been. He has not the faintest understanding of the big things he talks about. I have stood a good deal from Billy first and last from the time we were children, because he was little and delicate and I was not supposed to treat him as I would have treated other fellows. I tell you candidly what Billy needs right now and what he always has needed is to have his head punched. He always has taken refuge in his delicacy and hidden behind women. He is doing the same thing now with all this peace talk and half-baked socialism. I wonder how far socialism would have traveled if men had never fought for their rights and the rights of other people? I wish the socialists in this country would think of that little fact now and then. I suppose if no one had ever fought for liberty, most of us would be slaves. But I seem to be talking as much as Billy! It is only this, Mother, don't you see that Billy and I cannot both remain with the Camp Fire party this summer? I don't wish it to happen, but I am afraid if he goes on as he has been doing—and you know nothing ever stops him—why, there will be trouble between us, that is all. If you will only give your consent I am sure I can persuade father to allow me to volunteer."
Mrs. Webster's eyes filled with tears. Dan was too interested in watching his mother to pay any attention to Billy's good-natured drawl.
"Good old Dan, there is some truth in what you say, I suppose. There is a little truth in most people's opinions. But what a story-book hero you will make some day! It is all right, your rubbing it in about my not being as strong as other fellows; I suppose you don't know that hurts a little."
"My dear Dan, I did not dream you could be so unreasonable!" Mrs. Webster returned, having finally gained sufficient control of her voice to speak. "You know perfectly well I shall never give my consent to your volunteering for any branch of the army until you have reached the draft age. Moreover, if you have a difficulty with Billy you know how much sorrow that means for me. Besides, your aunt and the girls and I need you here with us at our camp fire this summer. If I could, I would send Billy back to the farm instead of you, but he still needs the benefit of this southern climate."
Poor Mrs. Webster, like many other mothers, often found her children too great a problem for her solving.
By this time Billy was again prostrate on the earth with his eyes fixed upon the sky and apparently perfectly serene. Even his mother's statement in regard to sending him home had not disturbed him, although he and his father chronically misunderstood each other.
Dan was repentant. "Sorry, Mother," he said; "this was not the time or place for me to open this discussion with you. I am sure I beg everybody's pardon."
Then he turned and walked away.