"Givin Alf the benefit," he said, with a grin. "Backin the family and baptizin the bus. Goin the long drive over the hill to Friston and Seaford; then up the valley to Auston. Dinner there. And home by Hailsham and Langney in the evening.--I wanted her to ask Joe. But she wouldn't. Fickle I call her." The Colonel glanced up; but Ruth steadfastly refused to meet his eye. "I suppose one wants the family to one-salf some-times, even a workin-woman doos," she muttered. And the Colonel saw that Ern had made his remark to show that the tension between him and his wife, so marked yesterday, had eased. "My wife's right," he thought. "Caspar is a gentleman. Blood _does_ tell." Just then Alf came down the steps of the Manor-house opposite, looking smug and surly. He crossed the road to the char-a-banc and said a word to the driver. Ruth leaned over, glad of the diversion. "Ain't you comin along then, Alf?" she asked quietly. "Caspar's my name," the Managing Director answered, never lifting his eyes to his tormentor. The young woman bent down roguishly, disregarding Ern's warning glances. "Not to your own sister, Alfie," she answered, demure and intimate. They were mostly Old Town folk on the char-a-banc, many from the Moot; and they all tittered, even the driver. Alf stood back in the road and said deliberately, searching with his eye the top of the bus. "Where is he, then?" Ern flashed round on him. "Who?" Alf sneered. "You!--You're only her husband!" and decamped swiftly. Ernie did not move. He stood with folded arms, rather white, following his retreating brother with his eyes. Then he said to the Colonel quietly, "Yes, sir. That's Alf. Now you know." "I'm beginning to," said the Colonel. "And time too," came Ruth's voice cold and quivering. In the cool of the evening the Colonel walked down Terminus Road. Outside the office of Caspar's Road-Touring Syndicate Alf was standing, awaiting the return of his argosies. He was scanning the evening paper and still wore the injured and offended air of one who has a personal grievance against his Creator and means to get his own back some day. "Any news, sir?" he asked. The Colonel stopped. "Germany sent Belgium an ultimatum last night demanding right of way. And the King of Belgium took the field this morning." "Then he ought to be shot," snarled Alf. "Provoking of em on, I call it." The Colonel walked on to the East-end, his eyes about him, and heart rising. The country was facing the situation with dignity and composure. The streets were thronged. Everywhere men and women gathered in knots and talked. There was no drunken-ness, no rioting, no Jingo manifestations--and that though it was August Bank Holiday. The gravity of the situation had sobered all men. The Colonel passed on into Seagate to find the hero of Sunday afternoon's battle.