After all, it is only God that makes strong to endure.""But it is not quite the question of enduring, it is not the suffering, Mother. It is the killing. I don't believe I could kill a man, and yet in the Bible they were told to kill.""But surely, Larry, we read our Bible somewhat differently these days. Surely we have advanced since the days of Abraham. We do not find our Lord and master commanding men to kill.""But, Mother, in these present wars should not men defend their women and children from such outrages as we read about?""When it comes to the question of defending women and children it seems to me that the question is changed," said his mother. "As to that I can never quite make up my mind, but generally speaking we hold that it is the Cross, not the sword, that will save the world from oppression and break the tyrant's power.""But after all, Mother," replied Larry, "it was not Smithfield that saved England's freedom, but Naseby.""Perhaps both Naseby and Smithfield," said his mother. "I am not very wise in these things."At the door of their house they came upon Nora sitting in the moonlight. "Did you meet Ernest and Mr. Romayne?" she inquired.
"They've only gone five minutes or so. They walked down with us.""No, we did not meet them."
"You must be tired after the wild excitement of the day, Mother,"said Nora. "I think you had better go at once to bed. As for me, I am going for a swim.""That's bully; I'm with you," said Larry.
In a few minutes they were dressed in their bathing suits, and, wrapped up in their mackintosh coats, they strolled toward the little lake.
"Let's sit a few moments and take in this wonderful night," said Nora. "Larry, I want to talk to you about what we heard to-night from those two men. They made me feel that war was not only possible but near.""It did not impress me in the very least," said Larry. "They talked as military men always talk. They've got the war bug.
These men have both held commissions in their respective armies.
Romayne, of course, has seen war, and they look at everything from the military point of view."As he was speaking there came across the end of the lake the sound of voices. Over the water the still air carried the words distinctly to their ears.
"Explain what?" It was Switzer's voice they heard, loud and truculent.
"Just what you meant by the words 'slanderous falsehood' which you used to-night," replied a voice which they recognised to be Jack Romayne's.
"I meant just what I said."
"Did you mean to impugn my veracity, because--""Because what?"
"Because if you did I should have to slap your face just now.""Mein Gott! You--!"
"Not so loud," said Romayne quietly, "unless you prefer an audience.""You schlap my face!" cried the German, in his rage losing perfect control of his accent. "Ach, if you were only in my country, we could settle this in the only way.""Perhaps you will answer my question." Romayne's voice was low and clear and very hard. "Did you mean to call me a liar? Yes or no.""A liar," replied the German, speaking more quietly. "No, it is not a question of veracity. It is a question of historical accuracy.""Oh, very well. That's all."
"No, it is not all," exclaimed the German. "My God, that I should have to take insult from you! In this country of barbarians there is no way of satisfaction except by the beastly, the savage method of fists, but some day we will show you schwein of England--""Stop!" Romayne's voice came across the water with a sharp ring like the tap of a hammer on steel. "You cannot use your hands, Isuppose? That saves you, but if you say any such words again in regard to England or Englishmen, I shall have to punish you.""Punish me!" shouted the German. "Gott in Himmel, that I must bear this!""They are going to fight," said Nora in an awed and horrified voice. "Oh, Larry, do go over.""He-l-l-o," cried Larry across the water. "That you, Switzer? Who is that with you? Come along around here, won't you?"There was a silence of some moments and then Romayne's voice came quietly across the water. "That you, Gwynne? Rather late to come around, I think. I am off for home. Well, Switzer, that's all, Ithink, just now. I'll say good-night." There was no reply from Switzer.
"You won't come then?" called Larry. "Well, goodnight, both of you.""Good-night, good-night," came from both men.
"Do you think they will fight?" said Nora.
"No, I think not. There's Switzer riding off now. What fools they are.""And Jack Romayne is so quiet and gentlemanly," said Nora.
"Quiet, yes, and gentlemanly, yes too. But I guess he'd be what Sam calls a 'bad actor' in a fight. Oh, these men make me tired who can't have a difference of opinion but they must think of fighting.""Oh, Larry, I don't understand you a bit," cried Nora. "Of course they want to fight when they get full of rage. I would myself.""I believe you," said Larry. "You are a real Irish terrier. You are like father. I am a Quaker, or perhaps there's another word for it. I only hope I shall never be called on to prove just what I am. Come on, let's go in."For a half hour they swam leisurely to and fro in the moonlit water. But before they parted for the night Nora returned to the subject which they had been discussing.
"Larry, I don't believe you are a coward. I could not believe that of you," she said passionately; "I think I would rather die.""Well, don't believe it then. I hope to God I am not, but then one can never tell. I cannot see myself hitting a man on the bare face, and as for killing a fellow being, I would much rather die myself. Is that being a coward?""But if that man," breathed Nora hurriedly, for the household were asleep, "if that man mad with lust and rage were about to injure your mother or your sisters--""Ah," said Larry, drawing in his breath quickly, "that would be different, eh?""Good-night, you dear goose," said his sister, kissing him quickly.
"I am not afraid for you."
