Mr. Keeler looked over his shoulder and, for an instant, the whimsical smile which was characteristic of him curved his lip. “Philosophy, Al,” he observed. “If Locke don't suit you try the 'mad hatter' feller. I get consider'ble comfort out of the hatter, myself. Do you remember when the mouse was tellin' the story about the three sisters that lived in the well? He said they lived on everything that began with M. Alice says 'Why with an M?' And the hatter, or the March hare, I forget which 'twas, says prompt, 'Why not?' . . . Yes, yes, why not? that's what he said. . . . There's some philosophy in that, Al. Why does a hen go across the road? Why not? Why is Labe Keeler a disgrace to all his friends and the town he lives in? Why not? . . . Eh? . . . Yes, yes. That's it--why not?” He smiled again, but there was bitterness and not humor in the smile. Albert put a hand on his shoulder. “Why, Labe,” he asked, in concern, “what is it?” Laban turned away. “Don't mind, me, Al,” he said, hurriedly. “I mean don't mind if I act funny. I'm--I'm kind of--of--Oh, good Lord A'mighty, DON'T look at me like that! . . . I beg your pardon, Al. I didn't mean to bark like a dog at you. No, I didn't--no, no. Forgive me, will you? Will you, Al, eh?” “Of course I will. But what is the matter, Labe? Sit down and tell me about it.” Instead of sitting the little bookkeeper began to walk up and down. “Don't mind me, Al,” he said, hurriedly. “Don't mind me. Let me go my own gait. My own gait--yes, yes. You see, Al, I--I'm tryin' to enlist, same as you're goin' to do, and--and MY fight's begun already. Yes indeed--yes, yes--it has so.” Albert was more astonished than ever. There was no smell of alcohol, and Keeler had declared that he had not been drinking; but-- “You're going to ENLIST?” repeated Albert. “YOU? Why, Labe, what--” Laban laughed nervously. “Not to kill the Kaiser,” he replied. “No, no, not that--not exactly. I'd like to, only I wouldn't be much help that way. But--but Al, I--I want to do somethin'. I--I'd like to try to show--I'd like to be an American, a decent American, and the best way to begin, seems to me, is to try and be a man, a decent man. Eh? You understand, I--I--Oh, Lord, what a mess I am makin' of this! I--I--Al,” turning and desperately waving his hands, “I'm goin' to try to swear off. Will you help me?” Albert's answer was enthusiastic. “You bet I will!” he exclaimed. Keeler smiled pathetically. “It's goin' to be some job, I cal'late,” he said. “Some job, yes, yes. But I'm goin' to try it, Al. I read in the papers 'tother day that America needed every man. Then you enlisted, Al,--or you're goin' to enlist. It set me to thinkin' I'd try to enlist, too. For the duration of the war, eh? Yes, yes.” “Good for you, Labe! Bully!”