Uncle sat down, assuming a funereal expression which sat oddly upon his somewhat comical countenance. He did not share his sister's faith in an All-wise and Merciful Providence. Strong ale, perhaps, had weakened it, and over-indulgence in flesh-pots. But he dared not contradict his sister. He fired another shot. "Captain Davenant be sartain sure that our noble army be too small for such a tremenjous affair. He goes further than that, Susan. I wouldn't deceive 'ee or try to frighten 'ee for a barrel o' ale, but he be flustratingly positive that we be drawn into the bloodiest war as never was, and he do say that God A'mighty fights on the side o' the biggest army. His tarr'ble words, Susan, not mine. There be millions o' Proosians marchin' into France this very day, and the Captain says they Frenchies bain't ready for 'em." He expected a cooling stream of comfort and a rebuttal of what the Captain said. If anybody could stand up against so redoubtable a personage it would be Susan Yellam. She said slowly: "The Captain says that our army be too small! The King'll have to call for--millions?" Uncle nodded dolorously. To his utter amazement and confounding, Susan raised her apron, and covered her face with it. The abomination of coming desolation overwhelmed both of them. CHAPTER VI FIRST IMPRESSIONS Uncle was quick, like all practised orators, to realise the effect of his words not only upon a sister, but upon himself. He emerged from the depths, as a swimmer after a dive, shaking his head and opening his mouth to the ambient air. A happy thought occurred to him. "Susan," he said, in a more cheerful voice, "I be mazed as you be, but things bain't so dark as they seem, and I've Squire's own word for it that figures lie to beat Satan hisself." Mrs. Yellam looked at him interrogatively. "I be allers, so to speak, a very calkilatin' man, rampaged by Fortin into makin' sixpence do duty for a shillin'. Now, I asks you this, and I means to put the question, fair and square, to Captain Davenant to-morrer marning. 'Tis a common saying that one Englishman be so good as ten Frenchies in a stand-up fight. That be a very comfortsome thought, old girl." "Which I don't hold wi', for one." "Don't 'ee? I wager the half-crown Master Lionel gi' me that you be the equal o' ten Frenchwomen, and, old as I be, I'd fair scorn to turn back on any 'arf-dozen furriners. If so be as my calkilatin' ain't out o' whack, our noble army o' two hundred thousand valiant souls be more'n equal o' two million Frenchies. And, if that be so, the Germans be up agen four millions in all. Leastways, if I bain't out in my figurin'." Mrs. Yellam smiled faintly. "Your figures, Habakkuk, be Satan's figures. I allows that one true Englishman can down three Frenchies, not more. Men'll be wanted--and soon." Uncle remarked mournfully: