CIVILIZATION was ringing with great news at the very hour that a son was born to the Corporal. But at that time he was a Corporal no longer. A letter had already reached Melia to say that “he was promoted Color Sergeant.” The fighting was awful, but the Chaps had got their tails up, and the time was coming “when Fritz would be bound to throw in his hand.”

It was very well, therefore, that the half comic, rather pathetic, somewhat crumpled but perfectly healthy creature snuggling up against its mother in a lovely chintz-clad bedroom looking southwest, proved to be a small but perfectly formed specimen of the human male. The delighted grandmother herself took the incredible news to Strathfieldsaye.

Josiah, who for several days past had been hard set to conceal a growing excitement, rubbed his hands with glee. “One in the eye for Park Crescent—what? Fancy ... Melia!”

Lady Munt agreed that wonders are never likely to cease in this world.

“Mother,” she never remembered to have seen Josiah so excited, “this means a bottle o’ champagne.” He pressed the bell and gave comprehensive orders to Alice. “Seems to me that Victory’s in the air.” Secretly he had always had a grudge against Fate, that, with all his worldly success, his family could not muster one solitary male among them. “Funny thing, y’ know, how you can be deceived in people. I always said that chap Hollis was a good-for-nothing. Well, I was wrong.”

Her ladyship sniffed a little and wiped tearful eyes. She was in perversely low spirits, but good soup, in spite of the food crisis and good wine, which she was simply forced to drink, did something to restore her.

“Yes, you can be deceived in people.” The cool trickle down Josiah’s throat generated a desire for conversation. “Take the Germans. Everybody thought they were a white race. Well, they aren’t. Then take the Americans. Everybody said they were too proud to fight. And, when finally they came in, people said they’d not be much use anyway. But it shows how easy it is to be wrong.” Again the Mayor took up his glass. “For I tell you, Mother, those Yankees have made a difference. Since that mix-up back in March they’ve done wonders. The Yankees have turned the scale.”

Maria had a head for domestic affairs only; she did not pretend to be wise in international matters. She sighed gently and thought of a certain chintz-clad room up at Dibley.

“Get on with it!” Her lord pointed at her glass peremptorily. “Pol Roger ’04’ll hurt nobody.” Strong in that faith, he lifted his own glass and bowed and beamed over the top of it. “Grandma, here’s now!”

At the toast Maria hoisted a blush which brought Josiah to the verge of catastrophe. Tears, her one form of emotional luxury, came into her honest eyes.

“In a year or two, Grandma, we’ll have to be thinking of your golden wedding—touching wood!” He laid a ritualistic finger upon the mahogany. “You little thought, did you now, when we started out together in that funny little box up Parker’s Entry that one day you’d be My Lady? Funny world—what? I remember going to fetch the Doctor the night that gel was born. Bitter cold it was.” Suddenly Josiah stopped and again took up his glass. “Wind had an edge like a knife round the corner by Waterloo Square.” Then came an odd change of voice. “Did I understand you to say the gel would like me to be godfather?”

Maria understood that Melia understood that Bill would like it.

A sigh escaped Josiah. He laid down his knife and fork. “Well, well, I never made such a mistake in my life as over that chap.” His voice grew humbler than Maria had ever heard it. “Shows how you can be deceived. Something big about that feller. Never made a greater mistake in my life. We’ll hope he’ll come through. Better write him a line, Mother. Don’t suppose it’s any use tryin’ to send a wire.”

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