him, and that he'd have to put on a stiff upper lip and go through
with it. And Hoofy owned that that was the thing he was really afraid
of--that his upper lip wouldn't keep stiff but would wobble, in spite
of him. And of course a breakdown on his own part would be the worst
possible thing that could happen to him. No potential soldier wants to
feel his upper lip unreliable, no matter what happens. It's likely to
make him flinch in a critical moment, when flinching won't do.

I was looking up at a picture of Mother on the wall over my desk as I
advised him to go home, and he asked me suddenly what _my_ mother
wrote back when I told her. I hated to tell him, but he pushed me
about it, so I finally got out her letter and read him the last
paragraph--but one. Of course the last one I wouldn't have read to
anybody.

"It's all right, Son, and we're proud as Punch of you, that you want
to be not only in America's '_First Hundred Thousand_,' but in
her '_First Ten Thousand_.' We know it will stiffen your spine
considerably to hear that your family are behind you. Well, we
are--just ranks and rows of us, with our heads up and the colours
waving. Even Grandfather and Grandmother are as gallant as veterans
about it. So go ahead--but come home first, if you can. You needn't
fear we shall make it hard for you--not we. We may offer you a good
deal of jelly, in our enthusiasm for you, but you could always stand a
good deal of jelly, you know, so there's no danger of our making a
jelly-fish of you--which wouldn't do, in the circumstances. That's
rather a poor joke, but I'll try to make a better one for you to laugh
at when you come. When shall we expect you? No--we won't have the
village band out, and will try not to look as if we had a hero in our
midst, but we shall be awfully glad to see Jack just the same."