"Far more than Major Guthrie young Mr. Blake the figure of a good officer has," observed Anna thoughtfully. Anna had always liked Jervis Blake. In the old days that now seemed so long ago he would sometimes come with Miss Rose into her kitchen, and talk his poor, indifferent German. Then they all three used to laugh heartily at the absurd mistakes he made. And now, to her mistress's astonishment, old Anna suddenly burst into loud, noisy sobs. "Anna, what _is_ the matter?" "Afflicted I am----" sobbed the old woman. And then she stopped, and began again: "Afflicted I am to think, gracious lady, of that young gentleman, who to me kind has been, killing the soldiers of my country." "I don't suppose he will have the chance of killing any of them," said Mrs. Otway hastily. "You really mustn't be so silly, Anna! Why, the War will be over long before Mr. Blake is ready to go out. They always keep the young men two years at Sandhurst. That's the name of the officers' training college, you know." Anna wiped her eyes with her apron. She was now ashamed of having cried. But it had come over her "all of a heap," as an English person would have said. She had had a sort of vision of that nice young gentleman, Mr. Jervis Blake, in the thick of battle, cutting down German men and youths with a sword. He was so big and strong--it made her turn sick to think of it. But her good mistress, Mrs. Otway, had of course told the truth. The War would be over long before Mr. Jervis Blake and his kind would be fit to fight. Fighting, as old Anna knew well, though most of the people about her were ignorant of the fact, requires a certain apprenticeship, an apprenticeship of which these pleasant-spoken, strong, straight-limbed young Englishmen knew nothing. The splendidly trained soldiers of the Fatherland would have fought and conquered long before peaceful, sleepy England knew what war really meant. There was great comfort in that thought. * * * * * As that second Saturday of August wore itself away, it is not too much to say that the most interesting thing connected with the War which had happened in Witanbury Close was the fact that Jervis Blake was now going to be a soldier. When people met that day, coming and going about their business, across the lawn-like green, and along the well-kept road which ran round it, they did not discuss the little news there was in that morning's papers. Instead they at once informed one another, and with a most congratulatory air, "Jervis Blake has heard from the War Office! He is going into the Army after all. Mr. and Mrs. Robey are _so_ pleased. The whole family went to the station with him this morning!"