Why, I shall be buying war-loan out of my pay!' He laughed happily.

Then his face grew suddenly serious.
'Look here, father--I want awfully to say something.

Do you mind ?' 'If you want to say it, I suppose you will say it.' The Squire was sitting hunched up, looking old and tired, his thick white hair piled fantastically above his eyes.
Desmond straightened his shoulders with the air of one going over the parapet.
'Well, it's this, father.

I do wish you'd give up that row about the park!' The Squire sat up impatiently.
'That's not your business, Desmond.

It can't matter to you.' 'Yes, but it _does_ matter to me!' said the boy with energy.