“Better, I should think—judging from the rush of men here,” said his father.
“Then we’re all going,” finished Norah blissfully. “In a ’normously large ship, Dad?”
“Most certainly,” said David Linton, hastily. “I came out forty years ago in a five-hundred tonner, and I’ve no desire to repeat the experience. We’re built on lines that demand space, we Lintons.”
“And when we get to London?”
“We’ll settle down somewhere—where we can be near the boys until they are sent out to the Front, and I can attend to business.”
“And then——?”
“We’ll wander about a bit until they come back to us. If it’s likely to be long, you’ll have to resume your neglected education, young woman,” said her father severely.
“M’f!” said Norah, wrinkling her nose. “How unpleasant!—that’s the first dismal thing you’ve said, Daddy. But I suppose one has to take the powder with the jam. And after the war——?”
“Oh, after the war——” said David Linton; and fell silent, looking at his son.
“After the war,” said Wally, happily, “we’ll all meet in London, and see the Kaiser led in triumph down Piccadilly. My own preference leads me to hope that it will be on a donkey with his face towards the tail of the ass, but I’m sadly afraid the world has grown too civilised.”