"
"Ah!" said the nephew Sinkin, writing.
"She has often told me at her knee," continued Mr. Lavender, "that there
was a strong vein of patriotism in her family."
"She did not die--in--in----"
"No, indeed," interrupted Mr. Lavender; "she is still living there."
"Ah!" said the nephew. "And your brothers and sisters?"
"One of my brothers," replied Mr. Lavender, with pardonable pride, "is
the editor of Cud Bits. The other is a clergyman."
"Eccentric," murmured the nephew absently. "Tell me, Mr. Lavender, do
you find your work a great strain? Does it----" and he touched the top
of his head, covered with moist black hair.
Mr. Lavender sighed. "At a time like this," he said, "we must all be
prepared to sacrifice our health. No public man, as you know, can call
his head his own for a moment. I should count myself singularly lacking
if I stopped to consider--er--such a consideration."
"Consider--er--such a consideration," repeated the nephew, jotting it
down.
"He carries on," murmured Mr. Lavender, once more identifying himself
with the journal, "grappling with the intricacies of this enormous
problem; happy in the thought that nothing--not even reason itself--is
too precious to sacrifice on the altar of his duty to his country.
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