"The news," said Mrs. Keane ponderously, "is bad. It is always bad. Why do we not sweep Belgium clear? Why?"
Darby, whose eye she caught, replied that he couldn't say, and offered a sultana cake humbly.
"Why not give it back to them instead of bringing the poor things over here?" said Mrs. De Burgho Keane gloomily. "So expensive, too! I am taking three gardeners, and I am told they have never even learnt English. One can hardly imagine it nowadays. I am looking things in the face," she went on emphatically. "It's no use putting futurity behind your back and hoping it will stay there."
Darby put down his tea-cup and rubbed his head softly.
"So I make it keep itself in the future where it should be. I had all the servants up and I've put my foot on their many eggs firmly, and stopped their jam on Fridays, and weeded out those——"
"Those who could go to the war?" flashed Gheena, the patriot, ceasing to be nervous. "Hanly, of course?"
"Your tea is always so good," said Mrs. De Burgho Keane, ignoring Gheena. "Thank you, Matilda. Do you weigh it out daily? I told old Naylour he would have to do without James, the pantry boy, and do Eustace's valeting as well, as Carty had enlisted; and when he said it was too much for him, I made James butler. I saw old Naylour here," added the lady haughtily.
"He was too old to go to strangers, and we thought we could do with him," said Gheena quietly.
"You remember I asked you, Dearest George," put in Mrs. Freyne, an anxious eye on her visitor. "I asked you twice, and you—what are you saying, Dearest, now?"
Dearest was saying "Damn!" a little too audibly, and looking at the door.