ening. And six years later your father died. I think he had
the purest and most unselfish love of the poor and helpless that I have
ever known. He wore away his life in the service of the outcast and
forlorn. And before he died, he expressed a wish that you should work as
he did, for others, but not in precisely the same way. He knew, none
better, the limitations imposed upon a parson. He prayed that you might
labour in a field larger than one parish. And I promised him that I
would do what I could when the time came. It has come--to-night. In my
opinion, in Warde's opinion, in your dear mother's opinion, Parliament
is the place for you. You will be sufficiently well off. Take all Oxford
can give you, and then try for the House of Commons. Charles Desmond
will make you one of his Private Secretaries. I have spoken to him. You
have a great career before you."

"But if war breaks out, uncle----"

"War _will_ break out. Don't misunderstand me! If you are wanted out
there, and the thing is going to be very serious, if you are wanted, you
must go; but decidedly you are not wanted yet. And you are an only son;
all your mother has. John, you must think of her, and you will think of
her, I know."

The conviction in his quiet voice communicated itself to his nephew.
There was a pause of nearly a minute; and then John answered, in a voice
curiously like his uncle's--

"All right."

Verney senior held out his hand. "I knew you would say that," he
murmured.

* * * * *

On the 18th of September, when John returned to the Hill, the country
had just learned that the proposals of the Imperial Government to accept
the note of August 19th (provided it were not encumbered by conditions
which would nullify the intention to give substantial representation to
the Uitlanders) had not been accepted. That this meant war, none, least
of all a schoolboy, doubted. Desmond could talk of nothing else. He told
John that his father had promised to let him leave Harrow before the end
of the term, if war were declared. The Demon, so John was informed, had
made already preparations. He was taking out his three polo ponies, and
had hopes of being appointed Galloper to a certain General. Scaife's
Horse was being organized, but in any case would not take the field
before several months had elapsed; the Demon intended to be on the spot
when the first shot was fired.

To all this gunpowder-talk John listened with envio