"Just wait till
it gets into line and the Kaiser will find that real war is a different
thing from parading round Berlin with your moustaches cocked up."
"Britain hasn't got an army," said Mrs. Norman emphatically. "You
needn't glare at me, Norman. Glaring won't make soldiers out of timothy
stalks. A hundred thousand men will just be a mouthful for Germany's
millions."
"There'll be some tough chewing in the mouthful, I reckon," persisted
Norman valiantly. "Germany'll break her teeth on it. Don't you tell me
one Britisher isn't a match for ten foreigners. I could polish off a
dozen of 'em myself with both hands tied behind my back!"
"I am told," said Susan, "that old Mr. Pryor does not believe in this
war. I am told that he says England went into it just because she was
jealous of Germany and that she did not really care in the least what
happened to Belgium."
"I believe he's been talking some such rot," said Norman. "I haven't
heard him. When I do, Whiskers-on-the-moon won't know what happened to
him. That precious relative of mine, Kitty Alec, holds forth to the same
effect, I understand. Not before me, though--somehow, folks don't
indulge in that kind of conversation in my presence. Lord love you,
they've a kind of presentiment, so to speak, that it wouldn't be healthy
for their complaint."
"I am much afraid that this war has been sent as a punishment for our
sins," said Cousin Sophia, unclasping her pale hands from her lap and
reclasping them solemnly over her stomach.
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