"Well, Susan, there be a nice bit o' pork frizzlin' in our oven, but I be in sore need o' spiritual nourishment."
"Whatever ails 'ee, Habakkuk?"
"'Tis the crool thought o' weepin' maids and mothers throughout the land, as robs me o' my appetite."
For the moment Uncle spoke with absolute sincerity. The thought of a nation in mourning had not entered his mind till he crossed the threshold of the Yellam cottage. But he accepted it as illuminating. And, instantly, his imagination draped the idea in deepest crêpe.
"Be you speaking o' French maids and mothers?"
"Being the man I am, I counts 'em all in wi' us. 'Tis cut-and-dried, as the saying goes. Old England takes the field."
Susan Yellam said drily:
"Old England takes the field. Well, dearie, you take a chair and tell us all about it."
Incredulity was written plain upon her face. Uncle opened fire at point-blank range.
"Sir Gaffrey says so, Susan. Master Lionel be hot-foot for Winchester, to drill recruities."