Page:A Son at the Front (1923) Wharton.djvu/119

—which matters still more to me. I can't let you go like this. Just let me say a word to you before———"

A gleam of shrewdness flashed through Benny Upsher's inarticulate blue eyes. "A word or two against, you mean? Why, it's awfully kind, but not the least earthly use. I guess I've heard all the arguments. But all I see is that hulking bully trying to do Belgium in. England's coming in, ain't she? Well, then why ain't we?"

"England? Why—why, there's no analogy———"

The young man groped for the right word. "I don't know. Maybe not. Only in tight places we always do seem to stand together."

"You're mad—this is not our war. Do you really want to go out and butcher people?"

"Yes—this kind of people," said Benny Upsher cheerfully. "You see, I've had all this talk from Uncle Harvey Mayhew a good many times on the way over. We came out on the same boat: he wanted me to be his private secretary at the Hague Congress. But I was pretty sure I'd have a job of my own to attend to."

Campton still contemplated him hopelessly. "Where is your uncle?" he wondered.

Benny grinned. "On his way to the Hague, I suppose."

"He ought to be here to look after you—some one ought to!"