I stoutly declared I was not the least tired--as who could have been in the circumstances?--and I should enjoy an hour's fishing with Myra immensely. So I ran upstairs and had a bath, and changed, and came down to find the General waiting for me. Myra had disappeared into the kitchen regions to give first-aid to a bare-legged crofter laddie who had cut his foot on a broken bottle. "Well, my boy," said the old man, "you've come to tell us something. What is it?" "Oh!" I replied, as lightly as I could, "it is simply that we are in for a row with Germany, and I've got a part in the play, so to speak. I'm enlisting." "Good boy," he chuckled, "good boy! Applying for a commission, I suppose--man of your class and education, and all that--eh?" "Oh, heavens, no!" I laughed. "I shall just walk on with the crowd, to continue the simile." "Glad to hear it, my boy--I am, indeed. 'Pon my soul, you're a good lad, you know--quite a good lad. Your father would have been proud of you. He was a splendid fellow--a thundering splendid fellow. We always used to say, 'You can always trust Ewart to do the straight, clean thing; he's a gentleman.' I hope your comrades will say the same of you, my boy." "By the way, sir," I added, "I also intended to tell you that in the circumstances I--I----Well, I mean to say that I shan't--shan't expect Myra to consider herself under--under any obligations to me." However difficult it was for me to say it, I had been quite certain that the old General would think it was the right thing to say, and would be genuinely grateful to me for saying it off my own bat without any prompting from him. So I was quite unprepared for the outburst that followed. "You silly young fellow!" he cried. "'Pon my soul, you are a silly young chap, you know. D'you mean to tell me you came here intending to tell my little girl to forget all about you just when you are going off to fight for your country, and may never come back? You mean to run away and leave her alone with an old crock of a father? You know, Ewart, you--you make me angry at times." "I'm very sorry, sir," I apologised, though I had no recollection of having made him angry before. "Oh! I know," he said, in a calmer tone. "Felt it was your duty, and all that--eh? I know. But, you see, it's not your duty at all. No. Now, there are one or two things I want to tell you that you don't know, and I'll tell you one of 'em now and the rest later. The first thing--in absolute confidence, of course--is that----" But at this point Myra walked in, and the General broke off into an incoherent mutter. He was a poor diplomatist. "Ah! secrets? Naughty!" she exclaimed laughingly. "Are you ready, Ronnie?" "He's quite ready, my dear," said the old man graciously. "I've said all I want to say to him for the time being. Run along with girlie, Ewart. You don't want to mess about with an old crock." "Daddy," said Myra reproachfully, "you're not to call yourself names."