Mrs Steele resumed her little speech.  A pink spot showed upon either cheek, but she spoke bravely.

“I suppose the first thing to be done is to see, as tactfully as we can, that during these first few weeks at any rate the wives and families of the men who have gone away to fight for us suffer no want.  There are other ways in which we can be useful—­And I take it for granted that all of us women, who cannot fight, are longing to be useful in some way or other. . . .  There is the working of socks, scarves, waistcoats, for instance; the tearing and rolling of bandages; and Dr Mant, who has so kindly driven over from St Martin’s, tells me that he is ready to be kinder still and teach an Ambulance Class. . . .  But our first business—­as he and Mr Hambly agree—­is to make sure that the wives and children of our reservists want neither food nor money to pay their rent. . . .  They tell me that in a few weeks the Soldiers’ and Sailors’ Families Association will be ready to take much of this work off our hands, though acting through local distributors.  Indeed, the Vicar—­indeed, my husband has already received a letter from the District Secretary of the Association asking him to undertake this work.  In time, too, no doubt—­as Government makes better provision—­that work will grow less and less.  But we have not even arrived at it yet.  Until it is set going these poor women and children may be short of money or the food that money buys.  So the proposal is to raise a few pounds, form a War Emergency Committee, and tide matters over until a higher authority supersedes us.  For in the interval a neighbour may be starving because her husband has gone off to fight for his country.  None of us, surely, could bear the thought of that?”

Mrs Steele’s voice had gathered confidence, with something of real emotion, as it went on; and an approving murmur acknowledged her little speech.  Her husband, whose eyes had kindled towards the close, was in the act of throwing her an applausive glance when Mrs Polsue’s voice cut the silence sharply.

“I don’t understand this talk about a Soldiers’ and Sailors’ Association, or whatever you call it.  Are we a part of it, here in this room?”

“Oh, no,” the Vicar answered.  “We are here merely to discuss forming an Emergency Committee, to provide (among other things) present relief until the Soldiers’ and Sailors’ Families Association—­ dreadful name!—­until the S.S.F.A., as we’ll call it, is ready to take over the work.”

“And then we shall be cold-shouldered out, I suppose?”

“Dang it, ma’am!” put in Farmer Best.  “What matter who does the work, so long as the poor critters be fed meantime?”