“How old are you, Jeremy dear?” she asked him.
“What a nice age! And one day you'll go to school?”
“And what will you be when you're a man?”
“Oh, I don't know. I'll be a soldier, perhaps.”
“Oh, I'm sure you wouldn't like to be a soldier and kill people.”
“Yes, I would. There's lots of people I'd like to kill.”
Mrs. Le Page drew her skirts back a little.
“How horrible! I'm sure your mother wouldn't like to hear that.”
But Mr. Cole had caught the last words of the dialogue and interrupted with:
“But what could be finer, Mrs. Le Page, than the defence of one's country? Would you have our young lads grow up faint-hearted and fail their Motherland when she calls? What can be finer, I say, than to die for Queen and country? Would not every mother have her son shed his blood for liberty and freedom?... No, Jeremy, not another. You've had quite enough. It would indeed be a disheartening sight if we elders were to watch our sons and grandchildren turning their swords into ploughshares--”
He was interrupted by a shrill cry from Mrs. Le Page:
“Charlotte, darling, do hold your sunshade up. All the left side of your face is exposed. That's better, dear. I beg your pardon, Mr. Cole.”
“I hope no son of mine will ever show himself a faint heart,” he concluded severely.
The luncheon, in fact, had been a most dismal failure. The Coles could fling their minds back to luncheons on this same beach that had been simply riotous successes. What fun they had had! What games! What bathes? Now the very sight of Mr. Le Page's black beard was enough. Even Jeremy felt that things were wrong. Then he looked at Charlotte and was satisfied. There she sat, straight and stiff, her hands on her lap, her hair falling in lovely golden ripples down her back, her gaze fixed on distance. Oh! she was beautiful! He would do whatever she told him; he would give her Miss Noah and the apple tree; he would--A sound disturbed his devotions. He turned. Both Mr. and Mrs. Le Page were fast asleep.
“Children,” whispered Mrs. Cole, “very quietly now, so that you don't disturb anyone, run off to the farther beach and play. Helen, you'll see that everything is all right, won't you?”
It was only just in time that Jeremy succeeded in strangling Hamlet's bark into a snort, and even then they all looked round for a moment at the sleepers in the greatest anxiety. But no, they had not been disturbed. If only Mr. Le Page could have known what he resembled lying there with his mouth open! But he did not know. He was doubtless dreaming of his property.