to his country by writing a book as by winning a
battle'; and just so much of these thoughts as seemed fit he imparted to
Roy, who--in response to the last--glowed visibly.

"Priceless old Jeffers! I knew I could reckon on you to back me up--and
buck me up! Of course one will be hugely encouraged by the bleating of
the practical crowd--Aunt Jane and Co. '_Why_ waste your time writing
silly novels?' And if you try to explain that novels _have_ a real
function, they merely think _you've_ got a swelled head."

"Never mind, Roy. 'The quest is a noble one and the hope great.' And we
scribblers have our glorious compensations. As for Aunt Jane----" He
looked very straight at her nephew--and winked deliberately.

"Oh, of course--she's _the_ unlimited limit," Roy agreed without shame.
"I suppose if Dad plays up, she'll give him hell?"

"Good measure, pressed down.--By the way--have you spoken to _him_ yet
of all this----?"

"No. Mother probably guesses. But you're the first. I made sure _you'd_
understand----"

"You feel doubtful--about Father?"

"M-yes. I don't quite know why."

Broome was silent a moment. "After all--it's natural. Put yourself in
his place, Roy.--He sees India taking a stronger hold of you each year.
He knows you've a deal of your mother and grandfather in your make-up.
He may very well be afraid of the magnet proving too strong at close
quarters. And I suspect he's jealous--for England. He'd like to see your
soul centred on Bramleigh Beeches: and I more than suspect they'd both
prefer to keep you nearer home."

Roy looked distressed. "Hard lines. I hadn't got to that yet. But it
wouldn't be for always. And--there's George and Jerry sprouting up."

"I gather that George and Jerry are not precisely--Roy----"

"Jeffers--you old sinner! I can't flatter myself----!"

"Don't be blatantly British, Roy! You can flatter yourself--you know as
well as I do!"

"I know it's undiplomatic to contradict my elders!" countered Roy,
lunging after pipe and pouch.

"Especially convenient godfathers, with press connections?"

Roy fronted him squarely, laughter lurking in his eyes. "Are you _going_
to be convenient--that's the rub! _Will_ you give Dad a notion I may
turn out something decent when I've scraped up some crumbs of
knowledge----?"

Broome leaned forward and laid a large reassuring hand on his knee.
"Trust me to pull it off, old man--provided Mother approves. We couldn't
press it against _her_ wish-