fast, my dear. It does not follow, because
the Reserves are called up, that War is actually declared. It is
sometimes done by way of precaution--though God forbid I should say a
word in defence of a Government which taxes us for being patriotic
enough to keep domestic servants. That doesn't, of course, apply to
_you_, my dear; still--"

"It only makes matters worse," Miss Oliver declared hastily.
"If they haven't declared War yet, there's the less hurry to
gallivant these Reservists about in brakes when to-morrow's a Bank
Holiday. And, as for patriotism, if I choose to fall downstairs
taking up my own coals, surely I'm as patriotic as if I employed
another person to do it: though for some reason best known to itself
the Law doesn't compensate _me_."

"There's something in what you say," agreed Mrs Polsue, a little
mollified, having caused her friend to rankle. "And the Law--or the
Government, or whatever you choose to call it--could afford the
money, too, if 'twould look sharper after compensating _itself_.
. . . A perfectly scandalous sight I witnessed just now, by the
bridge. There was that Nicholas Nanjivell called up to take his
marching-orders, and--well, you know how the man has been limping
these months past. The thing was so ridic'lous, the other men
shouted with laughter; and prettily annoyed the Customs Officer, for
he went the colour of a turkey-cock. ''Tis your own fault,' I had a
mind to tell him, 'for not having looked after your business.'
Pounds and pounds of public money that Nanjivell must have drawn
first and last for Reservist's pay, and nobody takin' the trouble to
report on him."

"I suppose," said Miss Oliver, "the man really _is_ lame, and not
shamming?"

"The Lord knows, my dear. 'Twas _somebody's_ business to have a look
at the man's leg, and not mine nor yours, I hope. . . . Put it now
that the case had been properly reported and a doctor sent to see the
man. If he's shamming--and unlikelier things have happened, now you
mention it--the doctor finds him out. If the man's sick, and 'tis
incurable, well, so much the worse for him: but anyway Government
stops paying for a fighting man that can't fight--for that is what it
amounts to."

"You can't make it less," Miss Oliver agreed. "But doctors are
terribly skilful nowadays with the knife," went on Mrs Polsue.
"Very likely this growth, or whatever it is, might have been removed
months ago."

"He ought to be made to undergo