"What's the matter with us? Is it Addington?"
"Good old Addington! Not Addington, any more than the world. It's grown too fat and selfish. Pretty soon somebody's going to upset the balance and then we shall fight and the stern virtues will come back."
"You old Tartar," said Alston, "have we really got to fight?"
"We've got to be punished anyhow," said his mother. "And I suppose the only punishment we should feel is the punishment of money and blood."
"Let's run away, mother," said Alston. "Let's pick up Mary and run away to Europe."
"Oh, no," said she. "They're going to fight harder than we are. Don't you see there's an ogre over there grinning at them and sharpening his claws? They've got to fight Germany."
"England can manage Germany," said Alston, "through the pocket. Industrial wars are the only ones we shall ever see."
"If you can bank on that you're not so clever as I am," said his mother. "I see the cloud rising. Every morning it lies there thick along the east. There's going to be war, and whether we're righteous enough to stand up against the ogre, God knows."
Alston was impressed, in spite of himself. His mother was not given to prophecy or passionate asseveration.
"But anyhow," said she, "you can't run away, for they're going to ask you to stand for mayor."