"No," Billy insisted; "it's urgent. Phil and I want to go to the war, and if we don't hurry they may call it off and then we'll be rooked."
"I wish there was a chance they might," Huntington said feelingly. "There's no fear of that, boy. They are in for a long and terrible struggle."
"Great!" cried Philip. "I've always wanted to go to war, and I never believed there would be another."
"I'm going because I want to get shot up just to spite Merry," added Billy, remembering his grievance and looking at the girl gloomily.
"The fact that you realize so little what you are saying is the greatest argument you could advance in favor of your going," Huntington said, looking at them gravely.
"I didn't mean to speak as I did," Philip replied apologetically. "It is a terrible thing, of course, but since it has come I am crazy to be a part of it. I believe I'll run away if Mother and Dad don't let me go!"
"I meant just what I said," Billy insisted stoutly. "Merry is very unhappy,—haven't you noticed it?"
"Do I look so now?" she laughed at him.
"You shouldn't interrupt," he reproved her; "it isn't polite.—She doesn't know what is the matter with her, but I do."
"What is the matter, Billy?" Huntington inquired seriously. "If I knew, perhaps I could help her."