'Well, they seem to have made him feel very much at home--but it isn't
my business; if they choose to declare the house in a state of siege,
and turn the garden into a seat of war, I can't help it--I'd rather they
wouldn't, but it's your mother's affair, not mine!'

And he closed the discussion by lighting a cigarette, and relapsing into
a contented silence.

Uncle Lambert was short and stout, with a round red face, a heavy auburn
moustache, and little green eyes which never seemed to notice anything.
His nieces were fond of him, though they often wished he would pay them
the occasional compliment of talking sensibly; but he never did, and he
spent all his time at The Gables in elaborately doing nothing at all.

Clarence Tinling had gone off in a decided huff--so much so indeed that
he left his devoted army to carry out their rather misty manoeuvres
without any help from him. He was beginning to find a falling-off in
their docility of late, which was no doubt owing to their sisters; it
was excessively annoying to him that those girls should be so difficult
to convince of the protective value of a fortress, and especially that
they should decline to take his own superior nerve and courage for
granted. And the worst of it was, nothing but some imminent danger was
ever likely to convince them, such were their prejudice and
narrow-mindedness.

Later that afternoon the family assembled for tea in the cool, shady
dining-room; Mrs. Jolliffe, with a gentle anxiety on her usually placid
face, sat at the head (Colonel Jolliffe was away shooting in the North
just then). 'Where are all the boys?' she said, looking round the table.
'Why don't they come in?'

'It's no use asking us, mother,' said Hilary, 'we see so very little of
them ever.'

'Very likely they are washing their hands,' said her mother.

'So _like_ them!' murmured Uncle Lambert in confidence to his tea-cake.
'But here's the noble General, at all events. Well, Field Marshal, what
have you done with the Standing Army?'

Tinling addressed himself to his hostess. 'Oh, Mrs. Jolliffe, I'm so
sorry I was late, but I had just to run round to the stables for a
minute. Oh, the other two? They're on duty--they're guarding the camp.
In fact, I can't stay here very long myself.'

'But the poor dear boys must have their tea!' cried Mrs. Jolliffe.

'Well, you know,' said their veteran officer, as he helped himself to
the marmalade, 'I don't think a little roughing it is