DISSENSION
The end of the holiday week approached and on the day after New
Year’s there would be again a general migration of eager youths, all
over the broad land, into the outstretched arms of alma mater. But
competing fiercely with all the institutions of learning, a mightier
need beckoned the physically able, for there was work to do to make
the “world safe for democracy.”
Clement Stapley and Donald Richards heard the call and stopped to
consider it. They knew old Brighton was ready to welcome back her
knights of brain and brawn, but even more insistently they were
aware that far greater institutions controlled by the United States
Government were also eager to welcome the same brain and brawn.
The Red Cross beckoned them, the Emergency Aid and the Y. M. C. A.
wanted the help of strong and willing hands; bigger still loomed the
Government itself, with its demands for men, but with a more urgent
need. Surely Old Brighton could wait and so could their own desire
for learning; at such a time as this the country, all the world
indeed, blocked some of its wheels of progress to permit other wheels
to turn the faster, to roll along helpfully, determinedly, to reach
the hilltop of peace at the end of the fierce journey.
Don sat down to the breakfast table on Monday morning with four
younger boys, his brothers, all hungry and noisy. The mother of the
Richards boys had long been dead; the aunt, their father’s maiden
sister, who presided over the household, had departed a few minutes
before upon some important errand, leaving the interior to the tender
mercies of the wild bunch who seemed bent on having an especially
merry time, for they believed the doctor had gone to attend an urgent
case.
Don was the only one of the group who appeared in no mood to raise
a rumpus; he busily applied himself to satisfying his very healthy
appetite and only switched off at necessary intervals in the attempt
to enforce peace and to defend himself against the tussling twins,
who would rather scrap than eat. The other two, one older and
one younger, but almost the huskiest of the brothers, insisted on
having a hand in these athletic performances. And then there came an
unpleasant surprise.
Jim and Jake, the twins, in an effort to compel the surrender of a
buttered buckwheat cake, toppled over on Merrill, the second son,
who in turn flung them against Ernest. That wily youngster was more
than equal to such occasions; he dodged out of his chair and when
the struggling twins tumbled across his seat he twisted the corner
of the tablecloth about the neck of one, quickly wrecking things,
as the wrestlers fell to the floor. Don made a wide grab at several
things at once, but finding his attempt futile he turned, tore the
tusslers apart and sent them sprawling to opposite corners; then he
gave Ernest a crack with open hand, which caused that youngster being
the baby of the family, to bawl loudly.
Just at that instant Dr. Richards hurriedly entered the room, for he
had just been fixing his auto runabout and now came back for a bite
to eat.
The sight that confronted the busy man was enough to exasperate a
saint. He saw Donald in the midst of the mêlée and jumped at a too
hasty conclusion. A man usually of few words, often over-lenient and
generally just, he now, let his temper run away with his judgment and
his tongue. Grabbing two dried buckwheat cakes that had, by merest
chance, remained on the edge of the table, he turned back toward the
door.
“You are setting your younger brothers anything but a good example,
Donald! We have less of this sort of thing when you’re away. If
you carry on this way at Brighton I should think you’d soon be in
disgrace. You ought to be a little older and join the army; the
discipline there would do you good. A nice breakfast this is!” he
added as he began, moodily, to eat.
Don was too proud and too loyal to the joint offenders to explain.
It seemed enough for him to know that he was not to blame, that the
scolding was not merited and his father would soon find this out. An
idea had quickly entered his head.
“I can manage to get into the war, Father, if you’ll sign an
application paper.”
“Well, I’ll see about it--haven’t time now.”
“Yes, I think you have. Better sign before we wreck the house, or
set fire to it. Here’s the document. Write on the last line, at the
bottom.”
Doctor Richards seized the paper that Don shoved at him, but hardly
glanced at it. “I suppose you feel mightily independent since you got
that five hundred dollars. Well, going will probably do you good.”
With that the man of many duties drew forth his fountain pen, placed
the paper against the door-jamb, and quickly wrote his name. “Let me
know later just what you intend doing; I will help you all I can. But
if you like school best, better go back, perhaps.” The doctor stepped
out of the room, the front door slammed, there was the chug of a
motor and the boys were again left to themselves.
The twins and Ernest sneaked away; Merrill turned to Don, whom he
really loved and admired.
“Say, that was rotten! And for me and those kids to let you take
that, too! You bet I’ll tell Dad all about it when he comes back.”
“Well, all right, if you want to; but not now. Not one word before
I get off, which will be this afternoon probably. I really can’t
blame Father much; it was tough for him to miss a decent breakfast
and he has a lot to put up with from us kids--with all he does for
us! But he won’t be bothered with me for a while and if I get over
there maybe he will never again be bothered with me. Well, I’ll see
you later, Mel, and let you know. I’m off to see Clem Stapley now;
perhaps he will be going, too.”
But on his way Don stopped at the Army and Red Cross recruiting
station, in the same busy office, being received with much gusto,
both because of his recent heroic conduct in landing the German agent
and of his frank engaging manner. He had much to say, found much to
learn and got what he was after. Then he climbed the hill toward the
Stapley mansion. Clem was at the garage, helping the chauffeur tinker
with a crippled motor.
“Hello, old man!” shouted Don, but he noticed that the older lad
hardly turned his head. He seemed much interested in his task. “Well,
what’s the good word?” continued the visitor. “Anything new?”
“Don’t know a thing,” answered Clem, without looking up.
“Well, things are coming my way,” Don said.
“Yes, I notice,” Clem agreed, with a sneer on his face, “and you’re
not dodging them very hard, either.”
“I was speaking of Government duties,” Don offered, ill at ease.
He had been satisfied that the old ill feeling had been completely
patched up, between Clem and himself, by the heroic episode through
which they had just passed, for his own feeling was friendly. But
surely Clem’s manner was cool, even more curt than before. However,
in the last remark the older lad showed some interest.
“How do you mean, ‘Government duties’?” he asked.
“I’ve just joined the Red Cross ambulance service, Clem. Leave
tonight. Thought you’d like to know--”
“I enlisted with the Marines two days ago,” Clem announced rather
coolly.
“Good for you! Hurrah! When do you go? We might--”
But Clem, who had turned back to work on the car said curtly:
“When I get ready. In a few days, perhaps.”
“No chance, then, for us to get away together?”
“None in the least.”
“Well, I’m glad you got in. Of course you had no trouble. Your father
gave his--”
“Look here, Richards!” Clem turned toward the younger boy almost
savagely. “I don’t see that you need to concern yourself with what
I’ve done, or doing. As for Dad, you ought to be satisfied after what
you got out of the company.”
“Oh! So that’s what’s the matter with you, eh? Sore about that; are
you? Well, you know I wanted to divide; I wanted to be fair to you.
It was not my--”
“I didn’t see you breaking any bones in an effort to be fair.”
“If you say I didn’t want to be fair, that I was entirely satisfied
in taking all that money, then, Stapley, you lie!”
“Say, before I’ll take much of that from you I’ll punch your head!”
“So? Well, the nose is right here when you want to punch it. Come
and punch it! But you won’t punch anything. You think you’re some
fighter. Come on and punch once; just once!”
Clem was no coward and he possessed the cool judgment of a capable
boxer. Moreover, he was taller, with a longer reach than Don. But he
had to reckon with superior weight, probably greater strength and
what counts more than all else--an indomitable spirit. Long brooding
over what he considered an injustice on Don’s part in accepting all
the reward for arresting the Germans, and for permitting others to
give him more of the credit for personal bravery had made young
Stapley more of an enemy than he had ever been.
How the fight would have ended was not to be known, however, for
though Clem would have struck Don, he was prevented by the chauffeur
who was by no means to be lightly reckoned with.
“Gwan, now, Clement, me boy! An’ you, too, young feller! I’ll mop up
the floor here with both o’ you if you begin scratchin’ an’ bitin’!
What would Mr. Stapley, me boss, say to me if I let you chaw each
other up? Gwan, young feller!”--this to Don. “An’ you come here,
Clement, an’ I’ll show you the true insides o’ this critter, from
piston head to crank shaft.”
Don took this for both good advice and a logically sound invitation
and turned on his heel. But he could not help feeling sorry that
again Clem Stapley and himself were “at outs”.