Mr. Johnson handed back the recruitment form, opened the door wide. "Come in, Ted!"

Lazarus saw heads disappearing as he came in; apparently most of the family was still up. His grandfather ushered him into the parlor. "Please sit down. I must go tell my daughter."

"If Mrs. Smith has retired, I would not want her to be disturbed," Lazarus lied. (Hell, no, Gramp! I'd rather crawl in with her. But that's one secret I'll keep forever.)

"Never you mind. This is something she will want to know. Uh, that piece of paper-may I have it to show her?"

"Certainly, sir."

Lazarus waited. Ira Johnson returned in a few minutes, handed back the proof of enlistment. "She'll be down shortly." The old man sighed. "Ted, I'm proud of you. Earlier today you had me upset-and I spoke out of turn. I'm sorry-I apologize."

"I can't accept it because there is nothing to apologize for, sir. I spoke hastily and did not make myself clear. Can we forget it? Will you shake hands with me?"

"Eh? Yes. Surely! Mrrph!" Solemnly they shook hands. (Maybe Gramp could still straight-arm an anvil-my fingers are crushed.)

"Mr. Johnson, would you take care of some things for me? Things I didn't have time to do?"

"Eh? Certainly!"

"This box, mainly." Lazarus handed him the taped cigar box.

Mr. Johnson took it, his eyebrows shot up. "Heavy."

"I cleaned out my lockbox. Gold coins. I'll pick it up when the war is over...or if I don't, will you give it to Woodie? When he's twenty-one?"

"What? Now, now, Son, you'll come through all right."

"I plan to, and I'll pick it up then. But I might fall down a ladder in a troopship and' break my silly neck. Will you do it?"

"Yes, I'll do it."

"Thank you, sir. This is for Woodie right now. My chessmen. I can't pack them around. I'd give them to you except that you would- think up some reason not to take them but Woodie won't."

"Mrrph. Very well, sir."

"Here's one thing that is for you-but it's not quite what it seems." 'Lazarus handed over the bill of sale for the landaulet.

Mr. Johnson read it. "Ted, if you're trying to give me your automobile, you can think again."

"That's only a nominal conveyance of title, sir. What I would like is to leave it with you. Brian can drive it; he's a good driver now, he's a natural. You can drive it; even Mrs. Smith might want to learn. When Lieutenant Smith is - home, he may find it convenient. But if they send me for training anywhere near here and I get time off before I'm sent overseas, I'd like to feel free to use it myself."

"But why hand me a bill of sale? Sure, it can sit in the barn and no doubt Brian-both of them-would drive it. Might learn to herd it myself. But no need for this."

"Oh. I didn't make myself clear. Suppose I'm off somewhere, say in New Jersey-but want to sell it. I can drop you a penny postcard, and it's easy, because you'll have that." Lazarus added thoughtfully, "Or I might fall down that ladder...in which case the same reasoning applies. If you don't want it, you can sign it over to Bran Junior. Or whatever. Mr. Johnson, you know I don't have any relatives--so why not let it run easy?"

Before Gramp could reply, Mrs. Smith came in, dressed in her best and smiling (and had been crying, Lazarus felt certain). She extended her hand. "Mr. Bronson! We are all so proud of you!"

Her voice, her fragrance, the touch of her hand, her proud joy, all hit Lazarus in the gut; his careful conditioning was swept away. (Maureen beloved, it's lucky that I'm being sent away at once. Safer for you, better all around. But I did it to make you proud of me, and now my cup runneth over-and please ask me to sit down before Gramp notices the tilt of my kilt!)

"Thank you, Mrs. Smith. I just stopped by to say thank you and good-bye-and good night, too, as I'm shipping out early tomorrow morning."

"Oh, do please sit down! Coffee at least, and the children will want to say good-bye to you, too."

An hour later he was still there and still happier-happy all through. The candy had been opened after he had presented it to Carol for all of them. Lazarus had drunk much coffee thick with cream and sugar and had eaten a hefty slice of home-baked white cake with chocolate icing, then accepted a second while admitting that he had not eaten since breakfast then protested when Maureen wanted to jump up and cook. They reached a compromise under which Carol went out to make a sandwich for him.

"It's been a confusing day," he explained, "and I haven't had time to eat. You caused me to change plans, Mr. Johnson."

"I did, Ted? How?"

"You know-I think I've told you both-that I planned to make a business trip to San Francisco leaving the first of July. Then this happens-Congress declaring war-and I decided to make the trip at once, settle my affairs there-then enlist. When I saw you I was all set to leave, packed and everything-and you made me realize that the Kaiser wouldn't wait while I took care of private affairs. So I joined up at once." Lazarus managed to look sheepish. "My packed grip is still out in the car, going nowhere."

Ira Johnson looked pained. "I didn't mean to rush you, Ted. 'Twouldn't have hurt to take a few days to wind up your affairs; they can't organize an army overnight. I know, I saw 'em try, in 'Ninety-eight. Mrrph. Perhaps I could make the trip for you? As your agent. Seeing that- Well, doesn't look like I'm going to be too busy."

"No, no! A million thanks, sir-but I hadn't been thinking straight. Thinking 'peacetime' instead of 'wartime' until you got me back on the rails. I went to Western Union and wrote a night letter to my broker in Frisco, telling him what I wanted him to do; then I wrote a note appointing him my attorney-in-fact and got it notarized and went to the downtown post office and registered it to him. All done, everything taken care of." Lazarus was enjoying the improvisation so much he almost believed it. "Then I went downstairs and enlisted. But that grip-Do you suppose you could put it in your garret? I won't be taking a grip to soldier. Just a few toilet articles."

"I'll take care of it, Mr. Bronson!" said Brian Junior. "In my room!"

"In our room," George corrected. "We'll take care of it."

"Hold it, boys. Ted? Would it break your heart if you lost that grip?"

"Not at all, Mr. Johnson. Why?"

"Then take it with you. But when you get back to your flat tonight, pack it differently. You put in white shirts and stiff collars, no doubt. You won't need those. If you've got any work shirts, take those. Be sure to take a pair of well-broken-in high shoes you can march in. Socks-all you own. Underwear. It's my guess-based on sad experience-that they won't have enough uniforms right away. Confusion, and lots of it. You may be soldiering for a month or more in what you carry with you."

"I think," Mrs. Smith said seriously, "that Father is right, Mr. Bronson. Mr. Smith-Lieutenant Smith, my husband- was saying something like it before he left. He left without waiting for his telegram-it came hours later-because he said he knew that there would be confusion at first." Her mouth twitched. "Although he said it more forcefully."

"Daughter, no matter how Brian put it, it wasn't forceful enough. Ted will be lucky if his beans are on time. Any man who can tell his right foot from his left will be grabbed and made acting corporal; they won't care how he's dressed. But you care, Ted-so take along clothes you might wear on a farm. And shoes-comfortable shoes that won't put blisters on you the first mile. Mmm- Ted, do you know the coldcream trick? To use on your feet when you know you might have your shoes on for a week or more?"

"No, sir," Lazarus answered. (Gramp, you taught it to me once before-or maybe "after"-and it works, and I've never forgotten it.)