“Prison camps?”
“That’s so.”
“Serve them right, the spies and sneaks! But why did the gentlemen come here?”
“The Governor brought them. He thinks Knockaloe is the best place in the island for an internment camp.”
Mona is aghast.
“What? Those creatures! Are we to be turned out of the farm for the like of them?”
“Not that exactly,” says the old man, and he explains the plan that had been proposed to him by the gentlemen from London. He and his family are to remain in the farm-house and keep that part of the pasture land that lies on the hill-side in order to provide the fresh milk that will be required for the camp.
Mona is indignant.
“Do you mean that we are to work to keep alive those Germans whose brothers are killing our boys in France? Never! Never in this world.”