Jimmie followed his soldier brothers about in a passion of admiration. And one day the ambition that was burning him up burst forth.
"Say, what do you think?" he cried excitedly, coming in with the afternoon mail. "Tommy Holmes has enlisted, and he's a month younger than I am."
"Then he's a silly youngster, and ought to be kept washing dishes to punish him," said Neil sharply. "No boy under eighteen has any right to enlist!"
"I'll be eighteen next Fall!" declared Jimmie defiantly.
"Which means you've barely turned seventeen, so hold your tongue," said Sandy.
Jimmie saluted with mock meekness. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir," he said, with a great show of nervousness.
Uncle Neil laughed uproariously, but brother Neil looked serious, and when milking time came he took Jimmie aside in the barn.
"You're worrying Mother, with your talk about enlisting," he said. "Can't you see that, and be quiet."
"I want to go as much as you do," said Jimmie stubbornly.
"I don't want to go at all," declared Neil, and his younger brother stared. "And neither would you if you would stop and think what a fearful thing this war is. I'm going because it is my duty, and so is Sandy. It's your duty to stay at home and finish the education John and Allister are giving you, and look after Mother.