Rather soon the East went, and the West became happier.
Miss Denison said, “Dorothy Jamison came round this afternoon, wanting us to join the National Service League or something.”
Mrs. Denison said, snippily, “Dorothy ought to know better,” at the same moment that Eddy said, “It’s a jolly little League, apparently. Quite full of truth.”
The Hall man said that his governor was a secretary or something at home, and kept having people down to speak at meetings. So he and the Denisons argued about it, till Margery said, “Oh, well, of course, you’re hopeless. But I don’t know what Eddy means by it. You don’t want to encourage militarism, surely, Eddy.”
Eddy said surely yes, shouldn’t one encourage everything? But really, and no ragging, Margery persisted, he didn’t belong to a thing like that?
Eddy showed his blue button.
“Rather, I do. Have you ever thought what war is, and what it would be like to have it raging round your own home? Are you a democrat? Then join the League.”
“Idiot,” said Margery, who knew him well enough to call him so.
“He believes in everything. I believe in nothing,” Arnold explained. “He accepts; I refuse. He likes three lumps of sugar in his tea; I like none. He had better be a journalist, and write for the Daily Mail, the Clarion, and the Spectator.”
“What are you going to do when you go down?” Margery asked Eddy, suspiciously.