Part 55 (1/2)

”Yes, certainly.”

”Able to shoulder a gun and march twenty miles a day?”

”I would think so.” (I'm sure you could, Gramp.) ”That's what I told that young smart-alec at the recruiting station. He told me I was too old!” too old!” Ira Johnson looked ready to break into tears. ”I asked him since when was forty-five too old?-and he told me to move aside, I was holding up the line. I offered to step ouside and whip him and any two other men he picked. And they put me out, Ted, Ira Johnson looked ready to break into tears. ”I asked him since when was forty-five too old?-and he told me to move aside, I was holding up the line. I offered to step ouside and whip him and any two other men he picked. And they put me out, Ted, they put me out!” they put me out!” Gramp covered his face with his hands, then took them down and muttered, ”I was wearing Army Blue before that snotty little s.h.i.+kepoke learned to pee standing up.” Gramp covered his face with his hands, then took them down and muttered, ”I was wearing Army Blue before that snotty little s.h.i.+kepoke learned to pee standing up.”

”I'm sorry, sir.”

”My own fault. I fetched along my discharge . . and forgot about its having my birth date on it. Look, Ted, if I dyed my hair and went back to St. Looie-or Joplin-that would work . . wouldn't it?”

”Probably.” (I know it didn't, Gramp . . but I think you did manage to talk your way into the Home Guard. But I can't tell you that.) ”I'll do it! But I'll leave my discharge at home.”

”In the meantime may I drive you home? My Tin Lizzie is around in back.”

”Well . . I suppose I've got to go home-eventually.”

”How about a little spin out Paseo to cool off first?”

”That's a n'idee. If it won't put you out?”

”Not at all.”

Lazarus drove around, keeping silent, until the old man's fuming stopped. When Lazarus noted this, he headed back and turned east on Thirty-first Street, and parked. ”Mr. Johnson, may I say something?”

”Eh? Speak up.”

”If they won't take you-even with your hair dyed-I hope you won't feel too bad about it. Because this war is a terrible mistake.”

”What do you mean?”

”Just what I said.” (How much to tell him? How much can I get him to believe? I can't hold back altogether-this is Gramp Gramp . . who taught me to shoot, and a thousand other things. But what will he . . who taught me to shoot, and a thousand other things. But what will he believe? believe?) ”This war won't do the slightest good; it will just make things worse.”

Gramp stared at him, under knotted brows. ”What are you, Ted? Pro-German?”

”No.”

”Pacifist, maybe? Come to think about it, you've never had one word to say about the war.”

”No, I'm not a pacifist. And I'm not pro-German. But if we win this war-”

”You mean 'When 'When we win this war!' ” we win this war!' ”

”All right, 'when we win this war,' it will turn out that we've actually lost it. Lost everything we thought we were fighting for.”

Mr. Johnson abruptly changed tactics. ”When are you enlisting?”

Lazarus hesitated. ”I've got a couple of things I must do first.”

”I thought that might be your answer, Mr. Bronson. Good-bye!” Gramp fumbled with the door latch, cursed, and stepped over onto the running board, thence to the curb.

Lazarus said, ”Gramp! I mean 'Mr. Johnson.' Let me finish running you home. Please! Please!”

His grandfather paused just long enough to look back and say, ”Not on your tintype . . you pusillanimous p.i.s.s-ant.” Then he marched steadily down the street to the car stop.

Lazarus waited and watched Mr. Johnson climb aboard; then he trailed the trolley car, unwilling to admit that there was nothing he could do to correct the shambles he had made of his relations with Gramp. He watched the old man get off at Benton Boulevard, considered overtaking him and trying to speak to him.

But what could he say? He understood how Gramp felt, and why-and he had already said too much and no further words could call it back or correct it. He drove aimlessly on down Thirty-first Street.

At Indiana Avenue he parked his car, bought a Star Star from a newsboy, went into a drugstore, sat down at the soda fountain, ordered a cherry phosphate to justify his presence, looked at the newspaper. from a newsboy, went into a drugstore, sat down at the soda fountain, ordered a cherry phosphate to justify his presence, looked at the newspaper.

But was unable to read it-Instead he stared at it and brooded.

When the soda jerk wiped the marble counter in front of him and lingered, Lazarus ordered another phosphate. When this happened a second time, Lazarus asked to use a telephone.

”Home or Bell?”

”Home.”

”Back of the cigar counter and you pay me.”

”Brian? This is Mr. Bronson. May I speak to your mother?”

”I'll go see.”

But it was his grandfather's voice that came on the line: ”Mr. Bronson, your sheer effrontery amazes me. What do you want?”

”Mr. Johnson, I want to speak to Mrs. Smith-”

”You can't.”

”-because she has been very kind to me and I want to thank her and say good-bye.”

”One moment-” He heard his grandfather say, ”George, get out. Brian, take Woodie with you and close the door and see that it stays closed.” Mr. Johnson's voice then came back closer: ”Are you still there?”

”Yes, sir.”

”Then listen carefully and don't interrupt; I'm going to say this just once.”

”Yes, sir.”