es don't tally with mine, or
even with yours--plumb deep the fish sink. Th' Old Doctor used to
preach that, when sunk, they headed back for Americy; but seein' as
they sunk, and out o' reach o' net, I never could see the matter was
worth pursooin'. The point is, you an' me'll find ourselves poorer
men by Christmas. And that's War, and it hits us men o' peace both
ways. Boo-oom!--plunk goes one hundred pounds o' money to the bottom
o' the sea; an' close after it goes the fish! You may take my word--
'tis first throwin' away the helve and then the hatchet. I could
never see any sense in War, for my part; an' I remember bein' very
much impressed, back at the bye-election, by a little man who came
down uninvited in a check ulster and a straw hat. The Liberal
Committee disowned him, and he was afterwards taken up an' give three
months at Quarter Sessions for payin' his board an' lodgin' somewhere
with a fancy cheque. But he was most impressive, even convincing
while he lasted; and I remember to this day what he told us about the
South African War. 'That War, my friends,' he said, 'has cost us,
first an' last, two hundred an' fifty millions of money--and 'oo
_paid_ for it? You an' me.' Boo-oom! once more! That's the way the
money goes,--an', more by token, here comes Pamphlett to know what
the row's about, an' with the loose cash, I'se wage, fairly skipping
in his trouser-pockets."

Sure enough, Mr Pamphlett, as the cannonade shook the plate-glass
windows of his bank, had started up in some alarm, and was sallying
forth to seek reassurance. For again the inner sheet of the
newspaper, with its reports of the mobilisation of armies and of
embassies taking flight from various European capitals, had engaged
all his attention, and he had missed the advertisement columns.

On his way to ask news of the group of fishermen at the Quay-head he
hurried--and almost without observing him--past Nicky-Nan; who
likewise had hobbled forth to discover the meaning of the uproar,
and, having discovered it, had retired to seat himself on the bollard
outside the "Three Pilchards" and nurse his leg. "What's this firing
about?" asked Mr Pamphlett, arriving in a high state of perspiration.
"I--I gather, from the cool way you men are taking it, that there's
no cause for alarm?"

Now Un' Benny, who found it hard as a rule to bear ill-will toward
any living creature, very cordially disliked Mr Pamphlett--as indeed
did most of the men