"
"Oh damm!" said my father, in a feirce voice. "Here, get
away and let me take it in. And as I'm in my undershirt I only
hope the neighbors aren't looking out."
He then sneazed twice and drew in the Emblem, while I stood
at the Salute. How far, how very far from the Plattsburg Manual,
which decrees that our flag be lowered to the inspiring music of
the Star-Spangled Banner, or to the bugel call, "To the Colors."
Such, indeed, is life.
LATER: Carter Brooks dropped in this evening. I was very
cold to him and said:
"Please pardon me if I do not talk much, as I am in low
spirits."
"Low spirits on a holaday!" he exclaimed. "Well, we'll have
to fix that. How about a motor Picnic?"
It is always like that in our house. They regard a Party or
a Picnic as a cure for everything, even a heartache, or being
worried about Spies, etcetera.
"No, thank you," I said. "I am worried about those of my
friends who have enlisted." I then gave him a scornful glance
and left the room. He said "Bab!" in a strange voice and I heard
him coming after me. So I ran as fast as I could to my Chamber
and locked the door.
Pages:
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346