ed
the hand from his mouth.

"I don't know what things are comin' to," he was heard to say. "What's
all this about goin' out there? That's not the way to beat those Boers."

Francie alone had the hardihood to observe: "What is, then, Uncle
Timothy?"

"All this new-fangled volunteerin' and expense--lettin' money out of the
country."

Just then Aunt Hester brought in the map, handling it like a baby with
eruptions. With the assistance of Euphemia it was laid on the piano, a
small Colwood grand, last played on, it was believed, the summer before
Aunt Ann died, thirteen years ago. Timothy rose. He walked over to the
piano, and stood looking at his map while they all gathered round.

"There you are," he said; "that's the position up to date; and very poor
it is. H'm!"

"Yes," said Francie, greatly daring, "but how are you going to alter it,
Uncle Timothy, without more men?"

"Men!" said Timothy; "you don't want men--wastin' the country's money.
You want a Napoleon, he'd settle it in a month."

"But if you haven't got him, Uncle Timothy?"

"That's their business," replied Timothy. "What have we kept the Army up
for--to eat their heads off in time of peace! They ought to be ashamed
of themselves, comin' on the country to help them like this! Let every
man stick to his business, and we shall get on."

And looking round him, he added almost angrily:

"Volunteerin', indeed! Throwin' good money after bad! We must save!
Conserve energy that's the only way." And with a prolonged sound, not
quite a sniff and not quite a snort, he trod on Euphemia's toe, and went
out, leaving a sensation and a faint scent of barley-sugar behind him.

The effect of something said with conviction by one who has evidently
made a sacrifice to say it is ever considerable. And the eight Forsytes
left behind, all women except young Nicholas, were silent for a moment
round the map. Then Francie said:

"Really, I think he's right, you know. After all, what is the Army for?
They ought to have known. It's only encouraging them."

"My dear!" cried Aunt Juley, "but they've been so progressive. Think of
their giving up their scarlet. They were always so proud of it. And now
they all look like convicts. Hester and I were saying only yesterday we
were sure they must feel it very much. Fancy what the Iron Duke would
have said!"

"The new colour's very smart," said Winifred; "Val looks quite nice in
his."

Aunt Juley sighed.

"I do so wonder what