"Wal, you had it right then. I took it upon myself to get exemption for you. That government official heartily approved of my recommendin' exemption for you. An' he gave it."
"Anderson! You took—it upon—yourself—" gasped Dorn, slowly rising. If he had been white-faced before, he was ghastly now.
"Sure I did.… Good Lord! Dorn, don't imagine I ever questioned your nerve.… It's only you're not needed—or rather, you're needed more at home.… I let my son Jim go to war. That's enough for one family!"
But Dorn did not grasp the significance of Anderson's reply.
"How dared you? What right had you?" he demanded passionately.
"No right at all, lad," replied Anderson. "I just recommended it an' the official approved it."
"But I refuse!" cried Dorn, with ringing fury. "I won't accept exemption."
"Talk sense now, even if you are mad," returned Anderson, rising. "I've paid you a high compliment, young man, an' offered you a lot. More 'n you see, I guess.… Why won't you accept exemption?"
"I'm going to war!" was the grim, hard reply.
"But you're needed here. You'd be more of a soldier here. You could do more for your country than if you gave a hundred lives. Can't you see that?"