Old Benjamin "don't hold with they priests," and he has grave suspicions
about all foreign tongues, but the Belgians have become quite a part of us,
and their children are learning to lisp in English down at the school in
the valley.
Much less agreeable is the frame of mind towards the occupants of the
cottage next to the Blue Boar. They are the wife and children of a German
who had worked in this country for many years and is now in America. The
woman is English and amiable, but the proximity of anything so reminiscent
of Germany is painful to the village, and especially to the landlord, whose
views about Germans can hardly be put into words.
"I should hope there'll be no prisoners took after _this_," he says grimly
whenever he hears of a new outrage. "Vermin--that's what they are," he
says, "and they should be treated according-ly."
The Germans, in fact, have become the substitute for every term of
execration, even with mild David the labourer. He came into the orchard
last evening staggering under a 15-ft.
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