“Of course,” she said, with decision, “you’ve got to join, too.”
“Rather,” he said. “Tell me what it is. I’m sure it’s full of truth.”
“It’s the National Service League. I’m a working associate, and I’m persuading people to join. It’s a good thing, really. Were you at the meeting yesterday?”
“No, I missed that. I was at another meeting, in point of fact. I often am, you know.” He said it with a touch of mild perplexity. It was so true.
She was turning over the sheaf of tracts.
“Let me see: which will meet your case? Leaflet M, the Modern Sisyphus—that’s a picture one, and more for the poor; so simple and graphic. P is better for you. Have you ever thought what war is, and what it would be like to have it raging round your own home? Have you ever thought what your feelings would be if you heard that an enemy had landed on these shores, and you knew that you were ignorant of the means by which you could help to defend your country and your home? You probably think that if you are a member of a rifle club, and know how to shoot, you have done all that is needed. But—well, you haven’t, and so on, you know. You’d better take P. And Q. Q says ‘Are you a Liberal? Then join the League, because, etc. Are you a Democrat? Are you a Socialist? Are you a Conservative? Are you——’ ”
“Yes,” said Eddy, “I’m everything of that sort. It won’t be able to think of anything I’m not.”
She thought he was being funny, though he wasn’t; he was speaking the simple truth.
“Anyhow,” she said, “you’ll find good reasons there why you should join, whatever you are. Just think, you know, suppose the Germans landed.” She supposed that for a little, then got on to physical training and military discipline, how important they are.
Eddy said when she paused, “Quite. I think you are utterly right.” He always did, when anyone explained anything to him; he was like that; he had a receptive mind.