she went moodily back to
her post.

They drank to Herman's health and to Minna's, and told of their
decision.

"Right!" said Herman. "I give you right." He stared long at his beer. "I
tell you, boys," he said at last, "mamma and me we got in a hard place,
yes. Me? I'm good American--true blue. I got my last papers twenty-two
years ago. I been good American since before that. Mamma, too. Both
good. Then war comes, and I remember the Fatherland--we don't never
furgit that, mind you, even so we are good Americans. But I guess mebbe
I talk a lot of foolishness about Germany whipping everybody she fight
with. I guess I was too proud of that country that used to be mine. You
know how it is, you boys; you remember your home and your people kind of
nice, mebbe."

"Sure!" said Spike. "Me? I was raised down back of the tracks in
Buffalo--one swell place fur a kid to grow up--but honest, sometimes I
git waked up in the night, and find m'self homesick fur that rotten
dump. Sure, I know how you feel, Herman."

Herman, cheered by this sympathy, drank of his beer. Putting down the
glass, he listened intently. Minna, at the bar, was heard to be weeping.

"Mamma," he called, gruffly, "you keep still once. None of that!"

Minna audibly achieved the commanded silence. Herman listened until
satisfied of this, then resumed:

"Well, so fur, so good. Then Germany don't act right, so my own country
got to fight her. She's got to fight her! I'd get me another country if
she didn't. But now people don't understand how I feel so. They say:
'Yes, he praise Germany to the sky; now I guess he talk the other side
of his mouth purty good.' They don't understand me. I want Germany
should be punished good, and my country she's goin' to do it good. That
is big in my heart. But shall I go out on the street and holler, 'To
hell with Germany?' Not! Because people would know I lied, and I would
know. I want Germany should be well whipped till all them sheep's heads
is out of high places, but I can't hate Germans. I could punish someone
good and not hate 'em. I'm a German in my blood, but you bet I ain't a
pro-German.

"Mamma, again I tell you keep still once--and now you boys goin' to
fight. That's good! Me, I would go if I was not too old; not a better
German fighter would they have than me. I kill 'em all what come till I
fall over myself. You boys remember and fight hard, so we make the world
nice again. I bet you fight good--strong, husky boys