"Mark my words!" said James, "consols will go to par. For all I know,

Val may go and enlist."

"Oh, come, James!" cried Emily, "you talk as if there were danger."

Her comfortable voice seemed to soothe James for once.

"Well," he muttered, "I told you how it would be. I don't know, I'm

sure--nobody tells me anything. Are you sleeping here, my boy?"

The crisis was past, he would now compose himself to his normal degree

of anxiety; and, assuring his father that he was sleeping in the house,

Soames pressed his hand, and went up to his room.

The following afternoon witnessed the greatest crowd Timothy's had known

for many a year. On national occasions, such as this, it was, indeed,

almost impossible to avoid going there. Not that there was any danger or

rather only just enough to make it necessary to assure each other that

there was none.

Nicholas was there early. He had seen Soames the night before--Soames

had said it was bound to come. This old Kruger was in his dotage--why,

he must be seventy-five if he was a day!

(Nicholas was eighty-two.) What had Timothy said? He had had a fit after

Majuba. These Boers were a grasping lot! The dark-haired Francie, who

had arrived on his heels, with the contradictious touch which became the

free spirit of a daughter of Roger, chimed in:

"Kettle and pot, Uncle Nicholas. What price the Uitlanders?" What price,

indeed! A new expression, and believed to be due to her brother George.

Aunt Juley thought Francie ought not to say such a thing. Dear Mrs.

MacAnder's boy, Charlie MacAnder, was one, and no one could call him

grasping. At this Francie uttered one of her mots, scandalising, and so

frequently repeated:

"Well, his father's a Scotchman, and his mother's a cat."

Aunt Juley covered her ears, too late, but Aunt Hester smiled; as for

Nicholas, he pouted--witticism of which he was not the author was

hardly to his taste. Just then Marian Tweetyman arrived, followed almost

immediately by young Nicholas. On seeing his son, Nicholas rose.

"Well, I must be going," he said, "Nick here will tell you what'll

win the race." And with this hit at his eldest, who, as a pillar of

accountancy, and director of an insurance company, was no more addicted

to sport than his father had ever been, he departed. Dear Nicholas! What

race was that? Or was it only one of his jokes? He was a wonderful man

for his age! How many lumps would dear Marian take? And how were Giles

and Jesse? Aunt Juley supposed their Yeomanry would be very busy now,

guarding the coast, though of course the Boers had no ships. But one

never knew what the French might do if they had the chance, especially

since that dreadful Fashoda scare, which had upset Timothy so terribly

that he had made no investments for months afterwards. It was the

ingratitude of the Boers that was so dreadful, after everything had been

done for them--Dr. Jameson imprisoned, and he was so nice, Mrs. MacAnder

had always said. And Sir Alfred Milner sent out to talk to them--such a

clever man! She didn't know what they wanted.




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