It was cheerful to see them again, and yet one uncomfortable thought
did cross my mind as I looked at their great grey ship anchored there.
"What a sitting target for a submarine!" I said to myself. "Pray Heaven
no submarine turns up here to-day!"
I had gone out to the bare northern headland and was heading home again
for tea when I happened to see on the road a small knot of these blue
jackets, just parting from a couple of countrymen. This pair turned
towards me and in a moment I recognised my acquaintances Peter Scollay
junior and Jock. Mr. Hobhouse had visited their house several times by
now and was on the most friendly terms with the family.
"Good-day, Peter!" he cried as he passed them. "Have you been taking your
brother to look at the ship?"
For some reason Peter stared at him in an odd way, and Jock burst into
one of his loudest laughs. Peter seemed to mumble something which Mr.
Hobhouse failed to catch, and then when they had passed, he could see him
laughing too.
To be laughed at without knowing the reason why is always irritating,
even to one of Mr. Hobhouse's exceptionally amiable temperament, and it
had the effect of suddenly sharpening his critical faculties. A thing
struck him that had never happened to strike him before. What was that
great strapping Scollay fellow doing at home on a small croft where he
was quite superfluous, when his country needed every man? And why did
the lout stare and then laugh? Considering what a vigilant eye was
watching him behind Mr.
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