“There is something brewing over there, Jim.”
“I hadn’t heard,” repeated the young man.
“I haven’t either, directly. But in my business some unusual orders have come through—from abroad. Both France and Germany have been making inquiries through agents in regard to shipments of grain and feed and lumber. I’ve heard of several very heavy rush orders.”
“What on earth could cause war?”
“I can’t see, Jim. Of course Austria’s attitude toward Servia is very sullen. But outside of that I can see no trouble threatening.
“And yet, the Gayfield woollen mill has just received an enormous order for socks and underwear from the French Government. They’re running all night now. 160 And another thing struck me: there has been a man in this section buying horses for the British Government. Of course it’s done now and then, but, taking this incident with the others which have come to my personal knowledge, it would seem as though something were brewing over in Europe.”
Jim’s perplexed eyes rested on his father; he shook his youthful head slightly:
“I can’t see why,” he said. “But if it’s to be France and Germany again, why my sympathy is entirely for France.”
“Naturally,” nodded his father.
Their Irish ancestors had fought for Bonaparte, and for the Bourbons before him. And, cursed with cousins, like all Irish, they were aware of plenty of Neelands in France who spoke no English.