rse thinks that room's private and that he don't
belong there he'll be sartin sure to go there; then maybe he'll
give me a rest."

He selected a new brush and went on with his painting. Captain
Hunniwell laughed heartily. Then, all at once, his laughter ceased
and his face assumed a troubled expression.

"Jed," he ordered, "leave off daubin' at that wooden doll baby for
a minute, will you? I want to talk to you. I want to ask you what
you think I'd better do. I know what Gab Bearse-- Much obliged
for that name, Jed; 'Gab's' the best name on earth for that
critter--I know what Gab came in here to talk about. 'Twas about
me and my bein' put on the Exemption Board, of course. That was
it, wan't it? Um-hm, I knew 'twas. I was the 'this' in his 'this
and that.' And Phin Babbitt was the 'that'; I'll bet on it. Am I
right?"

Winslow nodded.

"Sure thing!" continued the captain. "Well, there 'tis. What am I
goin' to do? When they wanted me to take the job in the first
place I kind of hesitated. You know I did. 'Twas bound to be one
of those thankless sort of jobs that get a feller into trouble,
bound to be. And yet--and yet--well, SOMEBODY has to take those
kind of jobs. And a man hadn't ought to talk all the time about
how he wishes he could do somethin' to help his country, and then
lay down and quit on the first chance that comes his way, just
'cause that chance ain't--ain't eatin' up all the pie in the state
so the Germans can't get it, or somethin' like that. Ain't that
so?"

"Seems so to me, Sam."

"Yes. Well, so I said I'd take my Exemption Board job. But when I
said I'd accept it, it didn't run across my mind that Leander
Babbitt was liable to be drafted, first crack out of the box. Now
he IS drafted, and, if I know Phin Babbitt, the old man will be
down on us Board fellers the first thing to get the boy exempted.
AND, I bein' on the Board and hailin' from his own town, Orham
here, it would naturally be to me that he'd come first. Eh?
That's what he'd naturally do, ain't it?"

His friend nodded once more. Captain Sam lost patience.

"Gracious king!" he exclaimed. "Jed Winslow, for thunder sakes say
somethin'! Don't set there bobbin' your head up and down like one
of those wound-up images in a Christmas-time store window. I ask
you if that ain't what Phin Babbitt would do? What would you do if
you was in his shoes?"

Jed rubbed his chin.

"Step out of 'em, I guess likely," he