"You mean that you would scratch the whole lot," said I, "even the pocket diary for 1915 that I send to Uncle William?"
"Yes, even that. You can send the diary to Sidney" (who is in Flanders). "I have always wanted him to keep a diary."
"The children must realise," said the Reverend Henry solemnly, "what it means for the nation to be at war."
"Oh, no," Laura broke in impetuously. "How can they realise? How can you expect Kathleen to realise?"
"Do you know," said the Reverend Henry, "that only last Sunday my niece Kathleen was marching all over the house singing at the top of her voice, 'It's a long, long way to Tipperary: the Bible tells me so?' Obviously she realises."
"But what about----" Eileen was beginning.
"Let's have a scrap of paper," said I, "a contract that we can all sign, and then we can put down the exceptions to the rule."
Henry was already hard at work with a sheet of foolscap.
"... not to exchange, give, receive or swap in celebration of Christmas, 1914, any gift, donation, subscription, contribution, grant, token or emblem within the family and its connections: and further not to permit any gift, donation, subscription, contribution, grant, token or emblem to emanate from any member of the family to such as are outside."
"The following recipients to be excepted," Henry went on,
"(1) All Hospitals; (2) Belgians; (3) His Majesty's Forces----"
"(4) The Poor and Needy," suggested Eileen.
"(5) The Aged and Infirm," said I. "I only want to get in Great-aunt Amelia. She mustn't be allowed to draw a blank."
"That's true," said Henry; "we'll fix the age limit at ninety-one. That'll bring her in."
"(6) Children of such tender age that they are unable to realise the national emergency," said Mrs. Sidney.
"Quite so," said Henry. "What would you suggest as the age limit? Three?"
"I should like to suggest five," said I, "to bring in Kathleen."
"Let's make it seven," said Mrs. Henry. "I can hardly believe that Peter realises, you know."
"Stop a bit," said I. "If you take in Peter you can't possibly leave out Tom. Make it eight-and-a-half."
"That seems a little hard on Alice, doesn't it?" said Eileen.
"Any advance on eight-and-a-half?" called Henry from the writing-desk. And from that moment the discussion assumed the character of an auction, Laura finally running it up to thirteen (which brings in the twins) to the general satisfaction.