But Aunt Barbara was not in the least diverted by this.
“And if England stands aside,” she said, “Der Tag will only dawn a little later, when Germany has settled with France and Russia. We shall live to see Der Tag, Michael, unless we are run over by motor-buses, and pray God we shall see it soon, for the sooner the better. Your adorable Falbes, now, Sylvia and Hermann. What do they think of it?”
“Hermann was certainly rather—rather upset when he read of the Sarajevo murders,” he said. “But he pins his faith on the German Emperor, whom he alluded to as a fire-engine which would put out any conflagration.”
Aunt Barbara rose in violent incredulity.
“Pish and bosh!” she remarked. “If he had alluded to him as an incendiary bomb, there would have been more sense in his simile.”
“Anyhow, he and Sylvia are planning a musical tour in Germany in the autumn,” said Michael.
“‘It’s a long, long way to Tipperary,’” remarked Aunt Barbara enigmatically.
“Why Tipperary?” asked Michael.
“Oh, it’s just a song I heard at a music-hall the other night. There’s a jolly catchy tune to it, which has rung in my head ever since. That’s the sort of music I like, something you can carry away with you. And your music, Michael?”
“Rather in abeyance. There are—other things to think about.”