Their eyes flew to his face to see how he would take it.

He took it very well.

He sat down beside Mrs.Le Page, who very gracefully and languidly sipped at her glass of milk.
"How old are you, Jeremy dear ?" she asked him.
"Eight," he answered, wriggling.
"What a nice age! And one day you'll go to school ?" "In September." "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 ?...