War-time Silhouettes | Page 2

observes the newspaper above the legs and smiles slightly.
"Hello, uncle!" It's a fresh young voice.
Mr. Reiss grunts, slowly lowers the paper and gazes at the youth over his eyeglasses.
"Oh, it's you. When did you come up?"
"Just arrived, uncle. We're ordered out. I thought I'd look you up at once as there are one or two things--"
"Eh--what?"
Among Mr. Reiss's characteristics is a disconcerting habit of making people repeat their remarks. This is deliberate and its purpose twofold--to gain time and to embarrass the person addressed.
The young fellow sits down rather uncomfortably and begins again--
"We're ordered out, you know--"
"No, I didn't know. How could I? You never write--"
Mr. Reiss consolidates his defence with the pretence of a grievance.
"I didn't know myself until yesterday. They don't give one much time, you know."
"They--who?"
"The War Office people. You see, our first battalion has had a lot of casualties and three of us subs are being taken from the third. We've got to join the day after to-morrow. Bit of a rush. And I've got things to get. I'm afraid I must ask you to give me a leg up, uncle. I'm a bit short--"
"Short? Why, you've got an ample allowance besides your pay and the Government pays for your outfit at an extravagant rate." Mr. Reiss never ceases denouncing the extravagance of the Government. He now adjusts his glasses and glowers at the youngster, who fidgets under the scrutiny. "Yes, I know. I--" he stammers.
"Well--well?"
"The fact is--when Staples, our captain, went back--he--I--"
A grunt. Then, "Eh--what?"
"He was engaged, you know."
"Well--well?" irritably.
"I can't explain, uncle, if you don't give me a chance."
Another grunt.
"Jimmie--I mean Staples--wanted to give his girl a ring before he went back. He hadn't enough money--so I lent him fifty pounds."
Mr. Reiss drops his glasses, gets up from his chair, and stands before the fire, facing his nephew.
"So you lent him fifty pounds, did you? A third of your annual allowance. You had no business to--and if Captain Whatever's-his-name were a respectable man, he would have saved the money to pay for the ring. Instead of that I have to pay for it."
"Oh no, uncle."
"How d'you mean--'no, uncle'? Aren't you asking me for money? It's always the same story with the lot of you. You like to be generous at other people's expense. I've told you I'm a ruined man. The fortune which was the result of my hard work all my life has disappeared. I'm a poor man. I spend nothing on myself. I've given up my car. I've put down everything. I'm trying to dispose of my pictures and to sell the lease of this place. You don't seem to understand what this infernal war means to people like myself. You don't have to pay for it. Do you realize that one-third of my entire income goes for income tax? I've paid your bills over and over again, but I can't do it any more. For this once I'll--" The boy holds up his hand.
"Look here, uncle. I'd better tell you at once. I shall need another fifty to make me square. But I'll pay you back--on my honour--"
"Bah! Your honour! Pay me back. I know what that means. So it's a hundred pounds you want. Very well. You shall have your hundred pounds. But I solemnly warn you that it's the last penny I intend to pay for your extravagance. As for that waster of a Captain What's-his--"
The boy flushes to the roots of his light, wavy hair.
"I say, uncle. He's not a waster. He's the finest fellow in the regiment. I can't allow you--Look here--never mind the money. The jeweller knows it's all right. I'd rather--"
He stops. The words won't come. He gazes at his uncle helplessly. Mr. Reiss goes slowly to the writing-table and sits down. Taking a blank cheque from a pocket-book he always carries, he fills it in and passes it to the boy without speaking.
"I don't like taking it, uncle. I don't, really--"
Mr. Reiss half turns round. He still says nothing, he does not even grunt. He knows that there are times when silence is golden. Moreover, he knows that money talks.
A few minutes later Mr. Adolf Reiss is again sitting alone, gazing into the fire. And he has another grievance against Life.
* * * * *
The philosophy of Mr. Reiss is a natural result of his early environment. In Magdeburg, where he was born and brought up, education in business principles is combined with the theory of family duty. Whether this theory takes the place of affection or not, its application in the case of Mr. Reiss resulted in his migration at an early age to England, where he soon found a market for his German industry, his German thriftiness, and his German astuteness. He established a business and took out naturalization papers. Until the