“’Tes that, mum, but there’s a good side to ut too. Mebbe ut’d give chance o’ someth’n to do to some as don’t do much otherwise. If ut took my three off and made men of ’em or dead uns ut’d be a change anyway.” “You’d find you’d miss them.” “I would that,” said Mrs Skirrow emphatically, and added presently, “And be glad to.... I done my best to stir ’em up, but ut’s in their bones. Mebbe if they was in th’ army they’d manage to put some ginger into ’em.” “It might do them good, as you say. But you might never see them again, you know.” “I seen enough of ’em this last two years to last me. ’Taint reasonable for one woman to have to work herself to the bone for three grown men that can’t get work ’cause they don’t want to.” “It is not. I think it absolutely shameful of them.” “Not that they quarrel at all,” said Mrs Skirrow, instantly resentful of anyone blaming her inepts but herself. “I’m bound to say that for ’em. They’re good-tempered about it, but that don’t keep ’em in clo’es, to say noth’n of boots. I suppose, mum, you ain’t got an old pair of ...” and Mrs Skirrow’s lamentations resolved themselves into the usual formula. It was close upon tea-time when Con came striding up the path, with a searching eye on the next-door grounds. “And what do you think of the war, mother?” he asked briskly, with his face all alight, as soon as their greetings were over, and he had satisfied himself as to the welfare of the rest of the family, and expressed his entire satisfaction with the news about Lois and Ray. “You mean this Austrian business? It’s very disturbing but I hope we won’t be drawn into it, my boy.” “I expect we shall, you know. Pretty certain, it seems to me. And if we are I’m pretty sure to get the call....” “I had not thought of that, Con,” and her hands dropped into her lap for a moment and she sat gazing at him. “That brings it close home. I pray it may not come to that.” “Well, you see, I’ve had the cash, and the goods have got to be delivered----” “Of course. But----” “And if it comes to a scrap they’ll need every medical they can get. What does Rhenius say about it all?” “He’s away,--in Italy, I think.” “I remember. He wrote me he was hoping to get off, if he could find a locum who wouldn’t poison you all in his absence. Well, anyway, I’m getting my kit packed----” “That’s business, my boy,” pealed the Colonel’s hearty voice, as he came in with a telegram in his hand. “I saw you turn in and I’d already been invited to drink a cup of tea with you. Alma can’t get off,”--he said, in a matter-of-fact way, showing the telegram. “Oh?--did you expect her, sir?” with an assumption of surprise to cover his disappointment. “I did, my boy, when I heard from your mother that she thought you might come to-day. Did you?” “Medicals and nurses are not their own masters,” said Con non-committally. “Do you really think we’ll be into it, sir?”