Germans, the dirty devils.

GEORGE (turning to BERT). Well, here's wishing you luck, Bert, and
hoping we'll meet over there. I know how you feel,--you want to be in
it, just as I do.

ASHER (turning). Perhaps I said more than I meant to, Bert. I've got to
turn out these machines in order that our soldiers may have shrapnel to
fight with, and what with enlistments and the determination of
unscrupulous workmen to take advantage of the situation, I'm pretty hard
pressed. I can't very well spare steady young men like you, who have too
much sense and too much patriotism to mix yourselves up with trouble
makers. But I, too, can understand your feeling,--I'd like to be going
myself. You might have consulted me, but your place will be ready for
you when you come back.

BERT. Thank you, sir. (He turns his hat over in his hands.) Maybe it
would be fair to tell you, Mr. Pindar, that I've got a union card in my
pocket.

ASHER. You, Timothy Farrell's son!

TIMOTHY. What's that? And never a word to me!

BERT (to TIMOTHY). Why wouldn't I join the union? I took out the card
this morning, when I see that that's the only way we'll get what's coming
to us. We ain't got a chance against the, employers without the union.

TIMOTHY. God help me, to think my son would join the union,--and he
going to be a soldier!