Chapter 2

"May I go into the village to get my hair cut?" asked Sinclair of my wife. "I'll promise to be back for tea."

Upon her assurance that Madame Mercier was lying down and was not at all likely to appear, permission was granted. We do not generally allow Sinclair to go out of the grounds at present. He is acting as the central link which makes the continuance of the social life possible to us. For I do not think that we could have undertaken (with our deplorable ignorance of French) to entertain Belgian refugees at all had he not been staying with us. As it is, it works beautifully, though Madame Mercier and her two daughters speak no English, for Sinclair's French is perfectly adequate.

It was during his absence that we learned that my neighbour, Andrew Henderson, the dairy farmer, had also taken in a Belgian--a woman who was to work on the farm during the winter.

"Here's another chance for you, Sinclair," said I, as he appeared at the gate. "It looks as if you will have to call round every morning to interpret and give 'em a good start for the day."

Sinclair was full of zeal and set off next day after breakfast. From the drawing-room window we watched his triumphant entry into the farm-yard at the foot of the hill. But he came back in a dejected frame of mind.

"She's called Suzanne," he told us, "and she's quite a nice-looking sort of woman, and she handles a turnip-cutter like an expert; but she talks nothing but Flemish."

"We might have thought of that," said the Reverend Henry. "Still, I daresay they'll manage all right."

"On the contrary," said Sinclair. "Henderson sent Suzanne to get the letters last night. She was gone a long, long time, and at last came back with three live fowls in a sack. She had been chasing them round the hen-house for all she was worth. Things can't go on like that, you know."

The Reverend Henry had an idea. "The only way out of it," he said, "is for you and Madame Mercier both to go. She knows Flemish."

"Yes, that's it," said I. "Henderson tells you what he wants; you hand it on to Madame Mercier in French; she transmits it to Suzanne in Flemish--and there you are!"

"Right-o!" said Sinclair. "We'll have a shot to-morrow morning."

Madame Mercier, who is a kindly, gentle creature, was most anxious to help, and again we viewed the operations in the farm-yard. The Reverend Henry got out his field-glasses (which have since been sent to Lord ROBERTS) and we watched the little corps of interpreters getting to work, while Suzanne, eager and expectant, like a hound on the leash, waited, shovel in hand. But it all ended in confusion and head-shaking and a dreary retreat up the hill. Madame Mercier seemed to be much amused.

"We have decided to adjourn," said Sinclair. "The truth is, we were not getting on at all. It looks as if you will have to come too."

"I was always afraid there were weak spots in you, after all, Sinclair," said the Reverend Henry. "It does not surprise me. You are all right in table French or even in domestic, railway or restaurant French, but as soon as we get outside of your beat into agricultural French----"

"It isn't that," said Sinclair. "I'm all right. It's that confounded fellow, Henderson. I'm hanged if I can understand a word of his Scotch. Never heard such a lingo in my life."

It is true that Henderson, who comes from some obscure district far North even of this, is a little difficult to understand. I have found him so myself.

"He said he wanted Suzanne to 'redd up the fauls,' as far as I could gather. Well, I have no idea what the fauls are, and I don't see how she is going to read them up in a language she doesn't understand. I had to give him up. We can't get on without your help."

That afternoon the Interpretation Committee, now increased to four active members, for Henry had insisted on coming too as referee, took up its position in the farm-yard in the form of a chain, along which communication was to pass from Henderson, through me, Sinclair and Madame Mercier to Suzanne. It was a little embarrassing for Suzanne, but she stood her ground well and waited in an admirably receptive mood, while the various items percolated through. Henderson gave me in careful detail the whole of his commands for her normal daily life, and everything seemed to go splendidly. But I am afraid the thing must have passed through too many hands before it reached its destination; for Suzanne, after many cheerful nods, suddenly broke off and turned on her heel. Then she secured an axe, which was lying against the bothy door, and walked with a steady and fixed purpose, never turning her head, out into the lane, through the gate and up the hill. We watched her spellbound till she reached the horizon, and there saw her pause, roll up her sleeves and furiously attack an old spruce tree.

It is impossible to say who was to blame. But it is clear that the instructions (as the Frenchman said of BRAHMS' Variations) had been _diablement changes en route_.

* * * * *

INDIA: 1784-1914.

The job was for us, grin and bear; We'd lit on India's dust an' drought; We knew as we were planted there, But scarcely how it came about; And so, in rough and tumble style, And nothing much to make a shout, We set our backs to graft a while, And meant to stay and stick it out.

Ten hundred risky, frisky Kings, And on the whole a decent lot; And several hundred million things That trusted us with all they'd got; And so we blundered at it straight, And found the times was pretty hot; And so they smiled and called it Fate, And Fate it was, as like as not.

Our law was one for great and small-- We heard 'em honest, claim for claim; We smooth'd their squabbles for 'em all, And let 'em pray by any name; And so we left enough alone, But learnt 'em plenty all the same; We show'd 'em what they should be shown, And tried to play the decent game.

For all our work we've not got much? P'r'aps not: but now there's come a scrap That's got us good with lies and such, And gave 'em just the chance to snap; And fools had thought they likely would (That's German-made and rattle-trap); They'd shout--the KAISER said they should-- And, happen, wipe us off the map.

From snow to sand that shout has burst, And German lies are well belied; And flood calls field for who'll be first-- They're proud to share the Empire-pride. It's them for Britain at the test; We knew they'd never stand aside; For when we tried and did our best The beggars must have known we tried.

* * * * *

The German Campaign of Lies.

From a book of reference:--

"'Berlin Work.' See 'Embroidery.'"

* * * * *

News of a serious character reaches us from _The Toronto Daily Mail_, which announces in its index of contents:--

"Austrian Fleet Bombards Montenegro's Only Teapot."

Another one of true Britannia metal is being sent to our gallant ally.

* * * * *

Illustration: "FARVER FINKS HE'S GOT A GERMAN SPY. 'E'S SITTIN' ON 'IS 'EAD. 'E'LL NEED 'ELP--MUVVER'S OUT!"

Illustration: "THAT'S THE CHAP--'IM WIVOUT A COLLAR!"

Illustration: "NO!--NOT 'IM--THAT'S FARVER!"

Illustration: "OH, LUMME! YOU'VE MIXED 'EM UP NOW. I DUNNO WHICH IS WHICH."

* * * * *

Illustration: UNREPORTED CASUALTY TO THE FOOTBALL OF THE 85TH INFANTRY REGIMENT OF THE ENEMY.

* * * * *

HOW TO BRIGHTEN WARFARE.

The contents of a poster of an esteemed contemporary (I confess that I got no further than the poster), which announced "Training Eagles to Fight Airships," have led me to speculate whether something further might not be achieved in similar directions.

Why, for instance, should not rabbits be trained to upset siege guns? The innocent and docile character of the creatures would be a valuable asset in work of this nature. Even if seen--and among grass or undergrowth on a dark night a rabbit of ordinary intelligence might reasonably hope to escape detection--their real purpose might be cleverly masked until it was too late. Leisurely approaching the object of attack, lulling the suspicions of a dull-witted sentinel or patrol by stopping now to cull a leaf, now to wash a whisker, the well-trained rabbit would have no difficulty in creeping to within striking distance. Then suddenly rushing forward and throwing its whole weight against the nearest wheel of the cannon it would tilt it from its foundation and fling it headlong to irretrievable destruction, very likely pinning several members of the gun company among its ruins.

If it is objected that the strength of an average rabbit would be unequal to the task, are there not, I would ask, strong rabbits among rabbits, just as there are strong men among men? None of the rabbits of my acquaintance could, I admit, overturn a mowing-machine; but then neither could I myself balance a coach-and-four upon my neck, yet I have seen men upon the stage who could and did. The first object of the efficient trainer would be, of course, to select suitable rabbits.

Surely something too might be done with white mice? By gnawing through the tent ropes of a sleeping enemy--especially on wet and stormy nights--they would engender a sense of strain and insecurity among our opponents that could not be without an appreciable influence on their temper and _moral_ throughout the campaign. The tents of commanding officers of notoriously choleric nature should be the objects of persistent attention in this way.

The suitability of parrots for use in warfare is obvious. Their especial duty would be to give misleading words of command at points of critical importance during a battle. A stealthy night attack might be converted into a hasty "strategic retirement" by an observant parrot ingratiating itself among the enemy's ranks and raising the cry, "Up, Guards, and at 'em!"

It is perhaps late in the season to utilise the services of trained wasps to any extent, but the possibilities of other insect auxiliaries should not be overlooked.

* * * * *

The Prime Minister of New Zealand as reported in _The Timaru Herald_:--

"Just one word more. With regard to Canada's offer that is reported in this evening's paper, my opinion of it may be summed up in three words: Dibra, Jukova and Ipek."

This is one of the things we could have summed up more lucidly ourselves, though perhaps not so concisely.

* * * * *

"Will the Soldiers who saw Lady Thrown off Tramcar on Saturday evening, about 8 o'clock, please communicate."

_Advt. in "Northampton Daily Chronicle."_

Another lovers' tiff in the gloaming?

* * * * *

Illustration: THE ROAD TO RUSSIA.

* * * * *

Illustration: _Cyclist_ (_taking initiative on being caught without a light_). "DOUSE YOUR GLIM, MATE; WE'LL BE HAVING THEM ZEPPELINS ALL OVER US."

* * * * *

BURGOMASTER MAX.

Belgian soldiers, martial heroes, in a world of fire and flame, By their fortitude and daring have achieved immortal fame, But there's one, a mere civilian, who a _vates sacer_ lacks-- Burgomaster MAX!

Therefore let a sorry rhymer offer you his humble meed, And salute your priceless service to your country in her need, All unarmed yet undefeated, never turning in your tracks-- Burgomaster MAX!

_Athanasius contra mundum_--you remind us of the tag, You whose fearless manifestoes never brooked the German gag; Bucking up your fellow-townsmen when their hearts were weak as wax-- Burgomaster MAX!

Now, alas! we read the foemen have decided to deport And intern you for a season in some dismal German fort, For your presence was distasteful to the Hun who sacks and "hacks"-- Burgomaster MAX!

Yet, whatever fate befalls you, as the ages onward roll You will live in deathless lustre on your country's Golden Roll, For you faced the German bullies with the stiffest of stiff backs-- Burgomaster MAX!

* * * * *

There are German financiers who now allude to him as "Dishonoured BILL."

* * * * *

A SEA CHANGE.

Ponto in town is strictly _comme il faut_, A member of the most exclusive set (His pedigree and dwelling all may know Who read page 90 in the "Dogs' Debrett").

His mien is dignified, his gait is slow; If upstart strangers try to catch his eye He kicks the dust behind with scornful toe, Averts his lifted nose and passes by.

His friends he greets with careful etiquette, Permits his well-poised tail-tip to vibrate, Then treads with them the solemn minuet That antique custom and good form dictate.

But Ponto by the sea! ah, who would know This damp wild ragamuffin on the strand Who importunes the passers-by to throw Big stones across the opal-shining sand?

Ponto dishevelled, ears turned inside out, Has suffered some sea change; his social worth Is all forgot; he leads a Comus rout, Tykes of the shore and curs of lowly birth.

Yelping with joy he brings his wolfish pack About my legs, as, dripping from the sea, I pick my way thro' shingle and wet wrack Beleaguered by this bandit company.

But when the day comes round to leave the shore Ponto puts off this maniac _Mr. Hyde_; Becomes a _Dr. Jekyll_ dog once more And homeward goes serene and dignified.

* * * * *

AT THE PLAY.

"MAMEENA."

Those who are not in the mood just now for a whole evening of exotic melodrama might look in at the Globe Theatre about 9.15, and derive a few moments' distraction from a Zulu wedding dance. I found it a better show than anything I have ever seen in the native compounds at Earl's Court. The company, of course, was mixed, but the white contingent had caught the local colour (coffee) and showed great aptitude in imitating the methods of the aborigines. Naturally there were conventions; the chiefs talked fluent English, while the Zulu supers employed their own vernacular, except in certain formal phrases, as when the "praisers" (my programme's name for a sort of universal _claque_) punctuated the speeches of their king with cries of "Yes, O Lion!" or "Yes, Great Beast!" No doubt our honoured visitors could perceive many technical points in which the ruling race exposed itself as having something yet to learn, but they tactfully concealed all signs of superior civilisation; and the British audience, well pleased with the novelty and picturesqueness of the scenes, were content to waive invidious distinctions.

The little brochure that was thrown in with the programme informs me that the martial spirit of the Zulus (at that time under their own _regime_) was "identical in many respects with 'Prussian Militarism.'" Certainly there was a savagery about the way in which they progged the air with their assegais that made one picture them as _capables de tout_. But any comparison, whether in point of costume or royal bearing, between _King Mpande_ and the GERMAN KAISER must have been in favour of the latter. On the other hand, his son _Umbuyazi_ was a far nobler figure than my conception of the CROWN PRINCE.

I may perhaps be excused if I do not dwell on the merits of the chief actors or of the plot--not too easy to grasp at the first, thanks to the difficulty we found in following the unfamiliar names of the characters. Both these interests were dominated by the attraction of the admirable setting. Fortunately the scenes were numerous and brief, but we still suffered considerable tedium from the affected and drawling delivery of the heroine. The frequent assurances which we received as to the exceptional quality of _Mameena's_ beauty, and the fact that, to our knowledge, she had three husbands in the course of the play, never quite convinced us of the overwhelming character of her charms. Whether, with a fair chance, she would have worked them successfully on a fourth man, _Allan Quatermain_--the one white man who retained his native hue--I cannot say, for somehow a stage diversion always intervened just as they had begun to embrace. The reason, by the way, for _Quatermain's_ existence was never made too clear. Sportsman and dealer in general stores, his habit of hanging vaguely about Zulu kraals and Zulu impis, on nodding terms with just anybody, did not greatly increase my pride of race, notwithstanding the statement made to him by _Mameena_: "I shall never love another man as I love you, however many I marry."

Mr. OSCAR ASCHE, who dramatised Sir RIDER HAGGARD'S _Child of Storm_, did not aim at subtlety. But a rather nice question arose over the rival immoralities of _Mameena's_ second and third husbands. _Prince Umbuyazi_ (No. 3) had expressed regret to his old friend and comrade, _Saduka_ (No. 2), for appropriating his wife; but the apology was not received in the spirit in which it was tendered, and during the fight between _Umbuyazi_ and his brother _Cetshwayo_ the wronged husband went over with his impis to the camp of the enemy. _Umbuyazi_ made a strong protest against this treachery, but he must have seen (for he had much intelligence) that his case was a bad one; and this reflection no doubt had something to do with the final act by which (in the old Roman way) he fell upon his own assegai and dropped backwards--an admirable gymnastic--off one of the high rocks above the Tugela.

I have already referred to the difficulties of Zulu nomenclature, and I would add that the native custom of addressing a man by his proper name in the course of every sentence materially extended the operation of the play. It must have made a difference--which I, for one, bitterly grudged--of nearly half-an-hour. How much more satisfactory the economy of a certain author of whom CHARLIE BROOKFIELD used to say: "He read his play to the company, and it took three solid hours, _and even so he didn't put in any of the 'h's.'_"

O. S.

* * * * *

Illustration: SOME OF THE GREATEST FIGURES OF ALL AGES.

_Recently discovered, by German research, to have been of Teutonic birth._

JULIUS KAISER.

GENERAL HERCULES.

JOHANNA VON ARKSTEIN.

WILHELM SCHAKESPEAR.

FRANZ DRAKENBERG.

DR. JOHANNSSOHN.

* * * * *

"An official telegram from Nish received in London states that the Servian commanders agree that the enemy all along the front is employing explosive bullets. Every soldier carries 20 per cent. of explosive cartridges."

_Daily Graphic._

The fact that 80 per cent. of Austrian cartridges refuse to explode may account for the Austrian "victories."

* * * * *

"Whelan replied: 'Yes, I sold the beef.' The military authorities pressed the case."

_Liverpool Echo._

A case of pressed beef, we presume.

* * * * *

Illustration: _Doctor (at Ambulance Class)._ "MY DEAR LADY, DO YOU REALISE THAT THIS LAD'S ANKLE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE _BROKEN_ BEFORE YOU BANDAGED IT?"

* * * * *

THE WAR IN ACACIA AVENUE.

When we are not running out after "specials" we are absorbed in the mimic fight of Acacia Avenue--the desperate conflict between Mrs. Studholm-Brown, of The Hollies, and Mrs. Dawburn-Jones, of Dulce Domum. They have husbands, these amiable ladies, but the husbands are mainly concerned with the commissariat and supply department, and are neither allowed nor desired in the actual fighting line.

The very day the war began, a huge flagstaff with a Union Jack of proportionate size rose in the grounds of Dulce Domum. It must have been ordered in advance. I present this fact to the German Press Bureau as showing that, at any rate, Mrs. Dawburn-Jones always intended war. But the next day Mrs. Studholm-Brown went six feet better with a flagstaff and three square yards better with a Union Jack.

Then we knew that it was war to the death in our Avenue and waited for the next move in the campaign.

"The Hollies" broke out into Red Cross notices; "Dulce Domum" announced itself to be the office for the organisation of local relief.

One morning we rose with a sort of idea that there was an eruption in the air, and found the flags of Servia, France, Russia and Belgium waving over "Dulce Domum." That day Mrs. Studholm-Brown met me in the Avenue. She condescended to me. "Oh, could you tell me the colours of the Montenegrin flag?" I couldn't; but it was the first time the great lady had ever spoken to me. "Pink with green stripes," I replied tremblingly.

The very next day seven Allied flags (including a pseudo-Montenegrin) flew over "The Hollies." Mrs. Studholm-Brown had added Japan before the MIKADO'S ultimatum had expired--which will prove to the German Press Bureau that there was a secret understanding between our Far-Eastern Ally and Mrs. Studholm-Brown.

But flags were not the only things that were flaunted. "Dulce Domum" opened fire with an array of flannel shirts hung on clothes-lines across the tennis-court. "The Hollies" replied with a deadly line of pyjamas.

Then the proprietress of the latter threw open her grounds--a croquet court and a drying ground--as a place of rest for Territorials off duty. Mrs. Dawburn-Jones promptly enlisted her husband as a special constable and had squads drilled on her tennis lawn.

So the fight went on--with slight successes on both sides, but nothing decisive--till one day when Mrs. Dawburn-Jones went to town in a taxi and returned with a family of negroes from the Congo. It was a splendid sight to see her leading them through the grounds and discoursing to them in her best Boulognese. Mrs. Studholm-Brown wriggled with mortification.

Then her chance of a counter-attack arrived. She had, or her husband had, or her husband's brother-in-law had, a second cousin who was an officer, and, what was more, a wounded officer. He was persuaded to spend a week-end of his convalescence at "The Hollies." His hostess walked him proudly up and down all the paths which were in full view of "Dulce Domum." It was magnificent to see her adjust his sling. At that moment I dare not have trusted Mrs. Dawburn-Jones with a gun or the officer would have been in as great peril as in the trenches. How it will end I can scarcely imagine. I like to picture a great day of victory. Then, if the CROWN PRINCE be allowed to take up his abode on _parole_, in some quiet suburban home, I am sure "The Hollies" will snap him up. And if "The Hollies" secures the CROWN PRINCE no power in this world can prevent Mrs. Dawburn-Jones from securing the KAISER.

* * * * *

THE HELPMEET.

"May I come in?" said Cecily, knocking at my study door.

"If you insist," said I.

"I only want to use the telephone," she explained, as if that made it any better.

"You couldn't take it away and use it somewhere else?" I asked.

She was unmoved. "It needn't disturb you," she said. "I'll be as quiet as a mouse."

"Won't that be rather dull for the people at the other end of the line?" I ventured.

"Now, you go on with your writing," she said severely. So I went on.

_Herbert closed the door softly behind him and went out, leaving Ermyntrude alone. She had let him go. He had gone. He had left her alone. Her--Ermyntrude--alone. It has been truly said that women are queer creatures. They do not like being left alone._

_CHAPTER LVII._

_Herbert picked up his hat and stick and passed out of the spacious hall into the street, closing the door softly behind him. It was his habit when angry to close doors softly behind him. He was frequently angry; men often are, and with reason._

"There's something I want to ask you," said Cecily.

"Ask away," I said brusquely.

"Not _you_," said Cecily, frowning at me and then smiling at the receiver.