“Ha, my boy, are you one of those rare young beings capable of listening to an old man’s patter?”
“I can take advice,” said Gabriel, with a smile.
“Then you are a paragon for your age. Don’t be too diffident to-day; arrogance counts for strength with the average Britisher. Stand up and talk like a Beaconsfield. Self-confidence is an Excalibur when the wielder is worthy. Above all things you must pretend to convictions, even if you don’t believe half you say. Talk as though you thought every man on the other side the most infernal jackass that ever chewed carrots.”
“I will strive not to hide my light under a bushel,” said the neophyte.
“Have you your crackers ready?”
“The customary gibes, Sir Hercules.”
“Your comic condiments. Always raise a laugh; it is nearly as effective as offering free drinks all round. And don’t forget to blarney the beggars. Stroke the local big-wigs the right way and they’ll purr like tom-cats; flatter their opinions; make ’em think they’re all statesmen.”
“I will do my best.”
“And then the catch sentiments, the gallery rhetoric—”
“Such as these: The grand and glorious future of our British empire! The splendid tenacity of the Anglo-Saxon race! Our stupendous commercial energy! The magnificent heroism of our army!”