"Why, Labe!" exclaimed Albert."Is that you? What's the matter?""Busy, are you, Al?" queried Laban."In a hurry, eh? Are you? In a hurry, Al, eh?""Why no, not especially."
"Could you--could you spare me two or three minutes? Two or three minutes--yes, yes? Come up to my room, could you--could you, Al?""Yes indeed.But what is it, Labe?"
"I want to talk.Want to talk, I do.Yes, yes, yes.Saw you go by and I've been waitin' for you.Waitin'--yes, I have--yes."He seized his assistant by the arm and led him across the road toward the shoe store.Albert felt the hand on his arm tremble violently.
"Are you cold, Labe?" he asked."What makes you shiver so?""Eh? Cold? No, I ain't cold--no, no, no.Come, Al, come."Albert sniffed suspiciously, but no odor of alcohol rewarded the sniff.Neither was there any perfume of peppermint, Mr.Keeler's transparent camouflage at a vacation's beginning.And Laban was not humming the refrain glorifying his "darling hanky-panky."Apparently he had not yet embarked upon the spree which Captain Lote had pronounced imminent.But why did he behave so queerly?
"I ain't the way you think, Al," declared the little man, divining his thought."I'm just kind of shaky and nervous, that's all.
That's all, that's all, that's all.Yes, yes.Come, come! COME!"The last "come" burst from him in an agony of impatience.Albert hastened up the narrow stairs, Laban leading the way.The latter fumbled with a key, his companion heard it rattling against the keyhole plate.Then the door opened.There was a lamp, its wick turned low, burning upon the table in the room.Mr.Keeler turned it up, ****** a trembly job of the turning.Albert looked about him; he had never been in that room before.
It was a small room and there was not much furniture in it.And it was a neat room, for the room of an old bachelor who was his own chambermaid.Most things seemed to have places where they belonged and most of them appeared to be in those places.What impressed Albert even more was the number of books.There were books everywhere, in the cheap bookcase, on the pine shelf between the windows, piled in the corners, heaped on the table beside the lamp.
They were worn and shabby volumes for the most part, some with but half a cover remaining, some with none.He picked up one of the latter.It was Locke on The Human Understanding; and next it, to his astonishment, was Alice's Adventures in Wonderland.
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 Iact funny.I'm--I'm kind of--of-- Oh, good Lord A'mighty, DON'Tlook 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!"
Laban held up a protesting hand."Don't hurrah yet, Al," he said.
"This ain't the first time I've tried it.I've swore off a dozen times in the last fifteen years.I've promised Rachel and broke the promise over and over again.Broke my promise to her, the best woman in the world.Shows what I am, what sort I am, don't it, Al?
Yes, it does,--yes, yes.And she's stuck by me, too, Lord knows why.Last time I broke it I said I'd never promise her again.Bad enough to be a common drunk without bein' a liar--yes, yes.But this is a little different.Seems to me--seems so."He began his pacing up and down again.
"Seems different, somehow," he went on."Seems like a new chance.
