could forget it the way he's doin'. And you--well, you've forgot a whole
lot, too. Memory's a good thing, the land knows," she added, sagely,
"but a nice healthy forgetery is worth consider'ble--some times and in
some cases."

Issachar Price's comments on his fellow employee's decision to become a
soldier were pointed. Issy was disgusted.

"For thunder sakes, Al," he demanded, "'tain't true that you've enlisted
to go to war and fight them Germans, is it?"

Albert smiled. "I guess it is, Issy," he replied.

"Well, by crimus!"

"Somebody had to go, you see, Is."

"Well, by crimustee!"

"What's the matter, Issy? Don't you approve?"

"Approve! No, by crimus, I don't approve! I think it's a divil of a
note, that's what I think."

"Why?"

"WHY? Who's goin' to do the work in this office while you're gone? Labe
and me, that's who; and I'll do the heft of it. Slavin' myself half to
death as 'tis and now--Oh, by crimustee! This war is a darned nuisance.
It hadn't ought to be allowed. There'd ought to be a law against it."

But of all the interviews which followed Albert's decision the most
surprising and that which he was the least likely to forget was his
interview with Laban Keeler. It took place on the evening of the third
day following the announcement of his intention to enlist. All that day,
and indeed for several days, Albert had noted in the little bookkeeper
certain symptoms, familiar symptoms they were and from experience the
young man knew what they portended. Laban was very nervous, his fingers
twitched as he wrote, occasionally he rose from his chair and walked
up and down the room, he ran his hand through his scanty hair, he was
inclined to be irritable--that is, irritable for him. Albert had noted
the symptoms and was sorry. Captain Zelotes noted them and frowned and
pulled his beard.

"Al," he said to his grandson, "if you can put off goin' up to enlist
for a little spell, a few days, I wish you would. Labe's gettin' ready
to go on one of his vacations."

Albert nodded. "I'm afraid he is," he said.

"Oh, it's as sartin as two and two makes four. I've lived with him
too many years not to know the signs. And I did hope," he added,
regretfully, "that maybe he was tryin' to break off. It's been a good
long spell, an extry long spell, since he had his last spree. Ah hum!
it's a pity a good man should have that weak spot in him, ain't it? But
if you could hang around a few more days, while the vacati