“Pooh! We all are at first. I was horribly frightened when we were attacked.”
“It didn’t seem like it,” said Stan, smiling.
“Oh no, of course not. I wasn’t going to let any one see what a stew I was in. That’s the result of education and one’s love of keeping up appearances. You owned to being frightened too—at first.”
“I was,” said Stan frankly. “Enough to make one.”
“Of course it was. But, you see, we’re Britons, and when a job of this sort comes to a head, why, we say, ‘Well, it’s no use to make any bones about it; the thing has to be done;’ and we do it as well as we can. And, as you see, the job was done.”
“Only half-done,” said Stan, with a sigh.
“What! I think it was splendidly well done. What do you mean by your ‘half-done’?”
“Why, you said the enemy would come back again.”
“Ye-es; so I did; but I don’t feel so sure now.”
“How is that?” asked Stan, impressed by his companion’s manner.