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'Well, they seem to have made him feel very much at home--but it isn't my business; if they choose to declare the house in a state of siege, and turn the garden into a seat of war, I can't help it--I'd rather they wouldn't, but it's your mother's affair, not mine!' And he closed the discussion by lighting a cigarette, and relapsing into a contented silence. Uncle Lambert was short and stout, with a round red face, a heavy auburn moustache, and little green eyes which never seemed to notice anything. His nieces were fond of him, though they often wished he would pay them the occasional compliment of talking sensibly; but he never did, and he spent all his time at The Gables in elaborately doing nothing at all. Clarence Tinling had gone off in a decided huff--so much so indeed that he left his devoted army to carry out their rather misty manoeuvres without any help from him. He was beginning to find a falling-off in their docility of late, which was no doubt owing to their sisters; it was excessively annoying to him that those girls should be so difficult to convince of the protective value of a fortress, and especially that they should decline to take his own superior nerve and courage for granted. And the worst of it was, nothing but some imminent danger was ever likely to convince them, such were their prejudice and narrow-mindedness. Later that afternoon the family assembled for tea in the cool, shady dining-room; Mrs. Jolliffe, with a gentle anxiety on her usually placid face, sat at the head (Colonel Jolliffe was away shooting in the North just then). 'Where are all the boys?' she said, looking round the table. 'Why don't they come in?' 'It's no use asking us, mother,' said Hilary, 'we see so very little of them ever.' 'Very likely they are washing their hands,' said her mother. 'So _like_ them!' murmured Uncle Lambert in confidence to his tea-cake. 'But here's the noble General, at all events. Well, Field Marshal, what have you done with the Standing Army?' Tinling addressed himself to his hostess. 'Oh, Mrs. Jolliffe, I'm so sorry I was late, but I had just to run round to the stables for a minute. Oh, the other two? They're on duty--they're guarding the camp. In fact, I can't stay here very long myself.' 'But the poor dear boys must have their tea!' cried Mrs. Jolliffe. 'Well, you know,' said their veteran officer, as he helped himself to the marmalade, 'I don't think a little roughing it is
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