'Yes,' said the American, pausing, 'very pleasant.'
'It looks sort of as if we was going to 'ave some ditherin's wi' Germany,
Mr. Selwyn.'
'It does. I don't see how war can be averted now.'
'It's funny Mister Malcolm ain't 'ome yet, sir. Has 'is moberlizin' orders came?'
'There's a War Office telegram in the house. I suppose his instructions are in it.'
The groom shook his head and swung philosophically on his heels. He was a broad-faced man of nearly fifty, with an honest simplicity of countenance and manner engendered of long service where master and man live in a relation of mutual confidence. He sucked meditatively at a corn-cob pipe, and Selwyn, changing his mind about a cigar, produced a case from his pocket.
'Have one, Mathews?' he asked.
'No, thank 'ee, sir. I'm a man o' easy-goin' 'abits, and likes me old pipe and me old woman likewise, both being sim'lar and the same.'
With which profound thought he drew a long breath of smoke and sent it on the air, to follow his philosophy to whatever place words go to.
'If Germany and us puts on the gloves,' ruminated Mathews, 'I'll be real sorry Mas'r Dick ain't 'ere. He's a rare lad, 'e is—one o' the right breed, and no argifyin' can prove contrariwise. I always was fond o' Mas'r Dick, I was, since 'e was so high, and used to come in 'ere and ask me to learn 'im how to swear proper like a groom. Ah, a fine lad 'e was; and—criky!—'e were a lovely sight on a hoss. Mister Malcolm 'e's a fine rider hisself, but just a little stiff to my fancy, conseckens o' sittin' up on parade with them there Hussars o' hisn. But Mas'r Dick—he were part o' the hoss, he were, likewise and sim'lar.'