“O-oh! Daddy’s a soldier,” said Freddy excitedly. “Let’s all march and kill the French. _Ein, zwei, drei...._” The Guardsman cast one glance at the chauffeur and footmen, who waited with perfectly blank, impassive faces. Aline rushed in where Freddy dared to tread.... “No, darling, Daddy’s an English Guardsman,” she interpolated. “Yes, you can drive on, Giles. I will walk. Now, darlings, tell me all you have been doing since Mummie went away.” “First we had tea,” began Bertie, “and then Freddy was sick----” “No, I wasn’t,” screamed Freddy. “I was sick first, and had tea afterwards. Have you had tea, Mummie?” “Yes, my darling, but I wasn’t sick. What were you sick about?” “About cherries,” said Freddy promptly. “And then I was quite well again and had tea. May we play horses? May you or Daddy be my horses?” She took Hermann’s arm, who began prancing in the most equine manner. “Yes: here we go. But you mustn’t drive us too fast, _liebster_, because Mummie has just been shod with high-heeled shoes, and she can’t run as fast as usual.” The two other boys insisted on being postillions, and thus loaded, the steeds soon had enough of their transmigration, and became human again. “And you enjoyed your afternoon, heart’s dearest?” asked Hermann. “Very much. I went to chapel, and then had tea with Robin. Those English boys are such dears; they were so jolly and friendly. And I was very careful.” “_Das ist gut._” He continued to speak in the language in which he thought, when, as so often, he thought definitely, as he had been taught to do as a child. He could remember his mother saying to him, “Never be vague when you think, _mein Hermann_: vague thought makes weak action. Articulate your thought, as if you were speaking aloud. That makes for thoroughness....” “But I have no longer any doubt whatever that the situation is beyond cure, Aline,” he said. “That is why I must certainly be in the City to-morrow morning. I must make the best of a bad job.” “But you are going to make a good job out of it, are you not?” she asked. “As far as a little money goes, yes,” said he. “If I do not bring you home half a million pounds, you may smash my silly face for me.” Freddy followed this. “Daddy’s going to bring home half a million pounds,” he shrieked. “Daddy, how much may I have?” Aline picked him up. “You may have half a million kisses from Mummie, dearest,” she said. “Me, too,” cried Bertie. “Me, too,” cried Jackie. She bent down and smothered herself in the midst of those soft, warm faces. “Darlings, Mummie’s own darlings,” she said. “You are a million times better than Daddy’s pounds which he is going to bring home. Look, what is that under the trees there? Why, it’s a pig! It must have got out of its pig-house. Run across to the farm and tell Whalley that there is a pig got loose.” “But it won’t bite us?” asked Bertie. “Not if you salute it. Call out, ‘_Guten Tag: Morgen ist Mittwoch._’” “But it’s only Sunday,” said Freddy.