ust see how Manchester is riddled with Germans. They have been
robbing our trade right and left, and even here in Brunford Germans are
poking their noses. I am about sick of them. Thirty years ago we
hardly ever saw a German, and now they have nobbled our best-paying
lines. If I had my way, all Germans should be driven out of the
country; they are a bad lot to deal with; they have no business honour,
and they don't play the game."

"Come now, it's not so bad as that."

"Ay, but it is. For years they have been sending their lads over here
on the pretence of learning the language. They take jobs in our
offices for hardly any wage, and then when they have learned our
secrets, and the names of our customers, they just play against us."

"Well, more fools we for letting 'em."

But it is not my purpose to deal with the talk which was so prevalent
towards the close of July 1914. Neither am I going to try to trace the
history of the events which led up to the war which has staggered
humanity. We all know now what Germany had in her mind: how by
pretence, and deceit, and fraud she worked her will; how she thought
that England would allow her to crush France and Russia without moving
a finger. Germany thought that the English were blind, and that for
the sake of gain we should remain neutral and never lift a finger while
she swept over Belgium to crush France; thought, too, that we should be
supine while she violated treaties and committed the most fiendish
deeds ever committed in the history of the world. But it is not my
purpose to speak of these things; I have to tell the story of a
commonplace lad in a workaday town, and what influence the great world
convulsion had upon his life.

At first Tom was not much moved by the danger of war. For one thing he
had given but little attention to public affairs, and for another thing
he was enamoured with Polly Powell. Still he could not help being
influenced by what every one was talking about. Local strikes, the
rate of wages, and the quality of beer ceased to be the general
subjects of conversation in the Thorn and Thistle. Every one was
talking about a possible war. And when finally early in August the
news came to Brunford that England had decided to take her part in the
great struggle, Tom found himself greatly interested.

"I'll tell you what," said Enoch Powell, the landlord of the Thorn and
Thistle, "the Germans have bitten off a bigger piece than they can