his afternoon, so I cal'lated maybe he hadn't heard
about Cap'n Sam's app'intment. And I knew, too, how he does hate
the Cap'n; ain't had nothin' but cuss words and such names for him
ever since Sam done him out of gettin' the postmaster's job.
Pretty mean trick, some folks call it, but--"

Mr. Winslow interrupted; his drawl was a trifle less evident.

"Congressman Taylor asked Sam for the truth regardin' Phineas and a
certain matter," he said. "Sam told the truth, that's all."

"Well, maybe that's so, but does tellin' the truth about folks make
'em love you? I don't know as it does."

Winslow appeared to meditate.

"No-o," he observed, thoughtfully, "I don't suppose you do."

"No, I . . . Eh? What do you mean by that? Look here, Jed
Winslow, if--"

Jed held up a big hand. "There, there, Gabe," he suggested,
mildly. "Let's hear about Sam and Phin Babbitt. What was Phineas
goin' on about when you was in his store?"

Mr. Bearse forgot personal grievance in his eagerness to tell the
story.

"Why," he began, "you see, 'twas like this: 'Twas all on account of
Leander. Leander's been drafted. You know that, of course?"

Jed nodded. Leander Babbitt was the son of Phineas Babbitt,
Orham's dealer in hardware and lumber and a leading political boss.
Between Babbitt, Senior, and Captain Sam Hunniwell, the latter
President of the Orham National Bank and also a vigorous
politician, the dislike had always been strong. Since the affair
of the postmastership it had become, on Babbitt's part, an intense
hatred. During the week just past young Babbitt's name had been
drawn as one of Orham's quota for the new National Army. The
village was still talking of the draft when the news came that
Captain Hunniwell had been selected as a member of the Exemption
Board for the district, the Board which was to hold its sessions at
Ostable and listen to the pleas of those desiring to be excused
from service. Not all of Orham knew this as yet. Jed Winslow had
heard it, from Captain Sam himself. Gabe Bearse had heard it
because he made it his business to hear everything, whether it
concerned him or not--preferably not.

The war had come to Orham with the unbelievable unreality with
which it had come to the great mass of the country. Ever since the
news of the descent of von Kluck's hordes upon devoted Belgium, in
the fall of 1914, the death grapple in Europe had, of course, been
the principal topic of discussion at the