_In. For. (with concern)._ Dear me! This is very sad! But then you have an
Army?

_Com. Gen. (with another burst of laughter)._ What! Call our wretched force
an Army! Why, to quote a writer, whose letters have been published in our
leading journal, "Nobody could tell the Secretary of State for War how a
force of forty thousand men, if it had to be supplemented for defensive
purposes by Volunteers, could be supplied with ammunition for six weeks."
Call our force an Army! Why, my dear Sir, the notion is absolutely
ridiculous!

_In. For._ But does not such a state of things make you uneasy?

_Com. Gen._ Uneasy! Of course it does! Why, at a moment's notice, this
grand old country might disappear for ever! Why we all feel that we are on
the point of dissolution! We know that only a ninth-rate Power has to send
a fleet to invade us, and we should have to submit--that we should be
absolutely effaced, and be known in future as merely a geographical
expression!

_In. For._ But surely this is lamentable--demoralising?

_Com. Gen._ I should rather think it was!--awfully demoralising!--(_Sound
of telephone bell._)--But will you pardon me? Some one wishes to speak to
me from Head Quarters. I won't be a second.

_In. For._ Certainly. Pray see what it is.

_Com. Gen. (listening, and speaking through telephone)._ What! Not really?