s the good of flinging a handful of troops
overseas, even if we can? It's incredible--English troops in Flanders in
this century. In my opinion--in my opinion, I say--we should do better to
hold ourselves in readiness. Germany would never really dare antagonise
us. They know what it involves. Why, there's hundreds of millions of
pounds at stake. Grey has only to be firm, and things must come right.
Must--absolutely must."

"Annie said, this morning, that she heard everyone in the
streets last night say we must fight, father," put in Hilda.

"Pooh!" exclaimed the city personage, touched now on the raw. "What do
the fools know about it? I suppose the _Daily Mail_ will scream, but,
thank God, this country has not quite gone to the dogs yet. The people,
indeed! The mass of the country is solid for sense and business, and
trusts the Government. Of course, the Tory press will make the whole
question a party lever if it can, but it can't. What! Are we going to be
pushed into war by a mob and a few journalists? Why, Labour even will be
dead against it. Come, Graham, you ought to know something about that.
More in your line than mine--don't you think so?"

"You really ought not to let the maids talk so," said Mrs. Lessing
gently.

Peter glanced at her with a curiously hopeless feeling, and looked slowly
round the room until his eyes rested on Mr. Lessing's portrait over the
mantelshelf, presented by the congregation of St. John's on some occasion
two years before. From the portrait he turned to the gentleman, but it
was not necessary for him to speak. Mr. Lessing was saying something to
the man--probably ordering the car. He glanced across at Hilda, who had
made some reply to her mother and was toying with a spoon. He thought he
had never seen her look more handsome and.... He could not find the word:
thought of "solid," and then smiled at the thought. It did not fit in
with the sunlight on her hair.

"Well, well," said Mr. Lessing; "we ought to make a move. It won't do for
either of us to be late, Mr. Preacher."

The congregation of St. John's assembled on a Sunday morning as befitted
its importance and dignity. Families arrived, or arrived by two or three
representatives, and proceeded with due solemnity to their private pews.
No one, of course, exchanged greetings on the way up the church, but
every lady became aware, not only of the other ladies present, but of
what each wore. A sidesman, with an air of portentous grav