"Well, I'm sure, William----"
"Oh! you're all right, Julia. There are worse than you. Nice little woman Lady Jenny, though, all the same--good sporting sort, shoots jolly straight, and all that."
"A thing I highly disapprove of," said Mrs. St. Leger, shaking her head mildly. "I'm glad, dear child," turning to Brenda, "that you don't do that sort of thing. It is so unladylike, I think."
"Perhaps it's a pity I don't, aunt. If I go to the front with Harold I might be all the better for knowing how to pull the trigger of a gun or a revolver."
"Harold!--what, young Burton!" growled the colonel. "Are you going to marry him? Is it settled? It is! Well, he's not a bad young fellow; but as a soldier! pooh! there are no soldiers nowadays. The army's going to the dogs."
"But, Brenda, dear child, what would you be doing at the front?" asked the old lady. "There is no war."
"Not yet; but every one says there is going to be war in South Africa."
"Of course there will be," snapped the colonel. "Do you think we're goin' to be defied by a couple of punny little Republics? Damnable insolence, I call it. They ought to be whipped, and they will be. Your father supports the beggars, Brenda, and he's a----"
"William! Her father--my brother!"
"Beg pardon, Julia; but he is, and you know he is. Going against his own country. Ha! here are the evening papers. We'll see what further rubbish these pro-Boer idiots have been talking. Julia, please see that dinner is punctual. And, Brenda, don't you be late. I hate waiting for my meals!"