"Please, ma! I'm full up. I couldn't. They had pink
ice-cream, too, with pink cake and--"
"Such mess-food what is bad for you. I'm surprised how Clara keeps her
good complexion. Let me fix you some fried--"
"Ma, I tell you I couldn't. It's ten o'clock. You mustn't try to fatten
me up so. In war-time a man has got to be lean."
She sat back suddenly and whitely quiet. "That's--twice already to-day,
Sam, you talk like that."
He took up her lax hand, moving each separate finger up and down, eyes
lowered. "Why not? Doesn't it ever strike you, mamma, that you and me
are--are kidding ourselves along on this war business, pretending to
each other there ain't no war?"
She laid a quick hand to her breast. "What you mean, Sammy?"
"Why, you know what I mean, ma. I notice you read the war news pretty
closely, all right."
"Sammy, you mean something!"
"Now, ma, there's no need to get excited right away. Think of the
mothers who haven't even got bank-accounts whose sons have got to go."
"Sammy--you 'ain't been--"
"No, no; I haven't."
"You have! I can see it in your face! You've come home with some news to
break. You been drafted!"
He held her arms to her sides, still pressing her down to her chair.
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