“I beg, sir,” hastily interposed his son, “you won’t put such crazy notions into James’s head. Even at present he is a great worry to his mother and myself by his incessant longing to become old enough to be a soldier. I do not mean to be harsh, sir, but we have traced that foolish ambition of his directly to his talks with you. And I must earnestly beg of you not to--” “Good little Jimmie! The fighting spirit skipped a generation when it came to you, Joe. But Jim’s a Fighting Brinton from the top of his red head to the soles of his stubby little feet.” “I must request, sir, that you put no more foolish notions into--” “That’s neither here nor there, Joe,” broke in Dad, impatiently. “We can talk about Jimmie another time. I want to go to the front. I want to enlist in this war. And I mean to.” “Pardon me, father, for bringing up an unpleasant subject, but--” “But, you’re going to say, I was kicked out of the army and I can’t get back. That’s what I came to see you about to-day.” “To see _me_ about?” echoed Joseph. “I don’t understand!” “You spoke awhile back of having influence,” answered Dad, with trembling eagerness. “And you have. With the State government and through that with the folks in charge down in Washington. “I believe if you’d use your influence to get one of the Ohio congressmen to put the matter up to President Lincoln, he would reconsider my case. They say he’s a real man. He wouldn’t be too hard on a fellow who doesn’t ask anything better of him than a chance to fight in the ranks for the flag he loves. As like as not, he’d let me enlist. “Won’t--won’t you see if you can’t pull wires to get the case put up before Lincoln, Joe? Won’t you do that? _Please_, son!” He reached across and timidly stroked the other’s immaculate coat-sleeve. “Lincoln’s a man, clear through,” he went on. “And he’s got a big heart. He’d--” “He is a gross, apelike buffoon who is doing his best to make the Presidential office the laughing-stock of Europe with his uncouth ways and his ribald stories!” declared Joseph, with some heat. “I would not accept a favor at the hands of such a man.” “But I would, Joe!” pleaded Dad. “And you’re all wrong about Lincoln. Honest, you are. I never met him. But I’ve read his speeches and I’ve talked with folks who know him. I guess Europe and this country, too--the kid-glove Bell-Douglas men--will change their minds about him before he’s done. Won’t you do this for me, Joe? I don’t often ask you favors. And this means such an awful lot to me.” “I am very sorry, sir,” replied Joseph. “But it is quite out of the question. Even if I wished to lower myself by an appeal to him and if I were criminal enough to let you go to the war, any request of mine to Lincoln would be refused.