“I guess we’ve nearly done the Lord’s job. The perishers are even more fed up than us, which is putting it strong. Let ’em start this Big Push of theirn as thur’s bin such a talk about. Doan’t you vrother about Jerry, Mus’ Sumption—he’ll be shut of this girl before long, and you’ll git him back here and wed him to a good soul as ull do better fur him than Ivy.” Mr. Sumption shook his head. “This is the war which shall end the world.” “Reckon I aun’t going out there, away from my wife and child and home, all among the whizz-bangs and the coal-boxes, and git all over mud and lice, jest to help on the end of the world. This world’s good enough fur me, and I hope it’ll go on a bit longer after peace is signed, so as I’ll git a chance of enjoying it.” “And they shall reign with Him a thousand years.” Tom was a little weary of Mr. Sumption in this mood; however, he felt sorry for him, and let him run on. “You must be blind indeed,” continued the minister, “if you don’t see how the Scriptures have been fulfilled—nation against nation and kingdom against kingdom, and the Holy City given back to the Jews, and the sun turned to darkness with the clouds of poisoned gas, and the moon to blood ... the blood of the poor souls that are killed in moonlight air-raids....” Tom knocked out his pipe. “Then at last”—and the minister’s eye kindled and his whole sunburnt face glowed with the mixed fires of hope and fanaticism—“the sign of the Son of Man shall appear in the heavens, and He shall come again in power and great glory. Even so, come, Lord Jesus—but come before our hearts are all broken. What’s the use of chaining up the Dragon in the Lake if he’s already devoured the world? Shorten these days, for the Elect’s sake—save us from the burning, fiery furnace which is making frizzle of our bones and cinders of our hearts.” He suddenly dropped his head between his hands. Tom felt a bit upset. He had again and again heard all this in chapel, but it was embarrassing and rather alarming to have it coming from the next chair. “Reckon you mind this War more’n I do,” he remarked lamely. “Because to you it is just war—while to me it’s Judgment. This is the day of which the Prophet spoke, the day that shall burn as an oven, and our sons and daughters shall burn as tow.... Bless you, young chap! there have been other wars—the country’s full of their dead names ... there were two lakes of blood up at Senlac.... But this war, it’s the End, it’s Doomsday. Now it shall be proved indeed that Christ died for the Elect, for all save the Elect shall perish. Tom, I have a terrible fear that I shall have to stand by and see my boy perish.” “Oh, he’ll pull through right enough—give him his head and he’ll come to his senses afore long.”