“You're not old enough.”
“How old've I got to be?”
“Twenty-one, unless you get the consent of your parents.”
“Taylor's a married man,” I whispered to Lieutenant Hopkins.
“Don't tell that, or he'll be asked to get the consent of his wife,” said the lieutenant, also in a whisper.
The committee contended that Taylor would not fill the bill. Waterman was recalled, and Mr. Robinson said:
“Well, you've had time to think it over. Now how old are you?”
“Twenty-one, last week.”
“I can't hardly swallow that.”
“See here, Mr. Quinn” (I had not heard the committee man's other name then), I interrupted. “We three have come together to enlist. You have said that I can go. Taylor may be a trifle under age, but what of it? If you don't take the three of us none of us will go.”