HILDA. They made it hard for you at college?
WALLACE. I don't know how to tell you.
HILDA. I understand. The flag waving, the patriotic speeches, the billboards advertising the glory of war, the call of adventure offered to youth, the pressure of your friends—all made it hard for you to be called a slacker.
WALLACE, No, mother. I wasn't afraid of what they could call me.
That was easy.
HILDA (proudly). You are your father's son!
WALLACE. Mother, I can't stand the thought of killing, you know that. And I couldn't forget all you've told me. That's why I've had to think this out all these months alone; why I've hesitated longer than most fellows. The only thing I was really afraid of was being wrong. But now I know I'm right and I'm going clean through to the limit.
HILDA. As your father said, I 'll stand by you—whatever it is—if only you feel it's right.
WALLACE. Will you? Will you, mother? No matter what happens? (She nods.) I knew you would. (Taking her hand) Then, mother, listen. I've volunteered.
HILDA (shocked). Volunteered!
WALLACE. Yes. I leave for training-camp to-night.