Chapter 2

"Party!" he roared. "Shunsuwere!" We gave two convulsive jerks. "Smarten up there, smarten HUP! Get a move on! This ain't a waxwork. Shunsuwere!... Shun!! Party present, Sir."

The Major inspected us.

"I don't like this smear, Sergeant," he said, pointing to Ansell's upper lip.

Seymour examined the feature in question.

"It don't appear to be dirt, Sir. Some sort o' growth, I think. You try sand-papering it, me lad, an' you'll find it come orf all right."

"Very good, Sergeant," answered Ansell solemnly.

The Major proceeded to Haynes, and eyed him with disfavour.

"We can't do nothing with this man, Sir," said Seymour deprecatingly. "'Is legs is that bandy."

"What do you mean, Private Haynes, by appearing on ceremonial parade with a pair of bandy legs?"

"It wasn't my fault, Sir. 'Strewth, it wasn't. They got wet, Sir, an' I went an' dried 'em at the cook'ouse fire, Sir, an' they got warped, Sir."

"Well," said the Major, "don't bring 'em on parade again. Tell your Q.M.S. I say you're to have a new pair."

"Very good, Sir."

The Major passed on to me, and surveyed my left arm more in anger than in sorrow.

"Why has this man got his blue band fastened on with pins?" he demanded. "Why isn't it sewn on? Why hasn't he fastened it on with elastic? D'you hear me? Are you deaf? Why isn't it sewn on? Why don't you speak?"

"Please, Sir...."

"Don't answer me back! Sergeant, take this man's name. He is insolent. Take his name for insolence. You are insolent, Sir. You're a disgrace to the Army. You're a ..."

"If you've quite finished with my squad, Major," put in Sister in a quiet voice from the door, "the car is here, and we're late already. I shall have to push a bit."

I promptly made for the seat beside the driver, explaining that I wanted to see the speedometer burst. Sister does a good many things, and does most of them well; but her particular accomplishment is her motor-driving. After my experiences in different cars at the Front--especially those driven by Frenchmen--I thought at first that motoring had no new thrills to offer me; but when Sister takes corners I still clutch at anything handy.

Surrey began to stream past us. The landscape was extremely beautiful, but only the more distant parts of it were visible except as a mere blur. After five or six miles we turned into a long straight stretch of road.

"The Hepworths live somewhere along this," said Sister. "There's a lovely sunken garden just in front of the house which I want you to notice. Hallo! here we are; I thought it was further on."

The car whizzed round and through a drive gateway half hidden in trees. When I opened my eyes again I looked for the sunken garden; but except for a few very prim-looking flower-beds the grounds in front of the house consisted entirely of a lawn, round which the drive took a broad circular sweep.

"It must be the wrong house," said Sister, and without pausing an instant in our centrifugal career we rushed round the complete circle and disappeared through the gate as suddenly as we had come. As we passed the house I had a fleeting glimpse of an old, hard-featured and furious female face glaring at us from one of the windows.

On the road we stopped the car so as to regain some measure of gravity before presenting ourselves at our real destination--next house--but were still rather hysterical when we arrived.

"You'll hear more of this," said our hostess, when we had reported our raid. "Old Miss Mendip lives there--a regular tartar; all kinds of views; writes to the papers."

* * * * *

In a subsequent issue of the local weekly we found the following:--

_To the Editor of "The Inshot Times, Great and Little Budford Chronicle and Home Counties Advertiser_."

SIR,--Even in _war-time_, when one cannot call our souls our own, we may surely expect the privacy of individuals and the rights of property to receive _some_ respect. An Englishman's home is still his castle, though the debased morals and decayed manners of modern _Society_ (?) seem to blind its members to the fact.

I wish to give publicity in your pages to a disgraceful _outrage_ of which I have been made the victim. On Tuesday last I was rudely awakened from my afternoon rest by the sound of a large motor-car. As I did not expect visitors I proceeded to the window in order to discover to what the _intrusion_ might be due. What was my _astonishment_ to discover that the vehicle contained a party of four _perfect strangers_. Three of them, I regret to state, were wounded officers; they were being driven by one of the modern games-playing cigarette-smoking young women to whom the old-fashioned word "_lady_" seems so _singularly_ inapplicable. Their sole object in entering appeared to be the perpetration of a senseless practical _joke_, for after _careering_ round my garden at a pace which I can only describe as _unwomanly_, they went off by the way they had come.

My gardener, who witnessed the incident, tells me that on reaching the road they stopped the vehicle and celebrated the success of their inane efforts by _shrieking_ with that unrestrained mirth which jars so painfully on refined ears.

Can _nothing_ be done?

I am, Sir, Yours faithfully,

LYDIA MENDIP.

_Manor Lodge, Little Budford_.

* * * * *

* * * * *

THE FOOD SHORTAGE IN GERMANY.

"While the horse doeuvres were being served, the Kaiser, etc."

At the Imperial table, it will be observed, they put the horse before the _carte_.

* * * * *

"He held several Court appointments, including those of Keeper of the Privy PuPrse to the Prince"--_The Star_.

It is not every Keeper of the Privy Purse who thus manages to double the initial capital.

* * * * *

THE P.-P.-D.

Henry is in the War Office, where he takes a hand in the Direction of Military Aeronautics. To meet him you might almost think that Military Aeronautics was a one-man show. He has, at any rate in the eyes of the layman, an encyclopædic knowledge of aircraft and all appertaining thereto. When he is out for a walk on Sunday with his wife and daughter, and a British aeroplane passes over them with the usual fascinating roar, Henry is very superior. Mummy (who is of coarse clay) and Betty (aged 11/2, and coarser still) are frankly excited every time.

"Look at the pretty airship!" says Mummy.

"Oo-ah!" says Betty.

"B. E. 4 X.," snaps Henry, without looking at it. * * * * * Or rather this is what Henry used to do; but now things are different. It was Betty who, so to speak, brought him down to earth again. He had great ambitions for Betty, whom he fondly believed to be possessed of intelligence above the lot of woman, and he always laboured prodigiously to advance her education. Betty took to it philosophically, however, and refused to be hurried; and Henry almost despaired of getting her beyond two syllables. The "Common Objects of the Farmyard" were rapidly assimilated, and all the world of mechanical traction was comprehended in the generic "puff-puff." But Henry wouldn't be satisfied with this very creditable repertoire. "Out of respect for her father, if for no other reason," he would insist, "she _must_ learn to say 'aeroplane.'"

"How ridiculous!" said Mummy, who always called them "airships," to annoy Henry; "and anyhow it's no use going on at her; she never will say things to order. If you'll only leave her alone for a bit she'll probably say it, and then your sordid ambition will be gratified."

But Henry cared for none of these things, and when Sunday came, and with it Sunday's promenade and Sunday's aeroplane, he went at it as hard as ever.

"Say 'air-ye-play,'" he commanded, as the pram was brought to a standstill and the droning monster passed overhead.

Betty gazed raptly at the entrancing thing. Then suddenly she raised a fat hand and pointed. "Oo-ah!" she said, "puff-puff-dicky!"

* * * * * And nowadays Henry's omniscience is decently obscured under a capacious bushel. If you meet an aeroplane when you are walking with him and ask humbly for his verdict thereon, in the expectation of an explosion of clipped technical jargon, he will stop and study its outline with great attention, and will eventually inform you, to your respectful mystification, that it is a "P.-P.-D." Thereafter he will chuckle most unofficially.

* * * * *

* * * * *

MORE SEX PROBLEMS.

"Wanted, a Blue Bull (Nilgai or Rojh). Apply, stating sex, age, height and price."--_Pioneer_.

* * * * *

From a German _communiqué_:--

"On the eastern bank of the Mouse desperate fishing continues."--_Edinburgh Evening Paper_.

And the Bosch has caught more than he bargained for.

* * * * *

From the report of the meeting, in London, of the Executive Committee of the National Farmers' Union:--

"Farmers had hundreds of acres of grass which they were willing to turn into meat, but were prevented from doing so."

Mr. Punch thinks that the difficulty might be overcome if the meat were turned into the grass.

* * * * *

THE H.Q. TOUCH.

Command Headquarters (who, of course, Ride us as Cockneys ride a horse-- I mean, without considering The animal; the ride's the thing) On Army Form--I cannot think Precisely which; the form was pink-- Instructed Captain So-and-so, With certain other ranks, to go And at a given hour report, With rifles, such-and-such a sort, So many rounds of S.A.A. Per man, and so much oats and hay Per horse (as specified and charged On War Establishments, enlarged, Revised and issued as amended); And here the said instruction ended, "Signed, Eustace Blank, G.S.O.3, For D.A.Q.A.M.A.G." The reason why the form was thus Truncated was--alas for us!-- That Major Blank, a hasty man, Neglected his accustomed plan And failed, in short, to P.T.O., So never told us where to go.

We drafted a polite reply:-- "Your such a number, Fourth July; Instructions touching destination Requested, please, for information." And Captain So-and-So and men Donned and inspected kits. And then Command Headquarters went and wired: "The draft in question not required. When any draft is _wanted_ you Will hear _precisely_ what to do; No error ever passes through This office. You will therefore not In future tell US what is what; WE know; and WE are on the spot. The G.O.C.-in-C. is much Displeased." The old Headquarters' touch.

* * * * *

OUR SPOILT PETS.

"Cottage, suitable for pigs and poultry."--_Birmingham Daily Mail_.

* * * * *

"SUSAN'S PUDDING.--This is a super-excellent pudding, and, as times go, the cost of the material used is not excessive. Required: One cup each of flour, breadcrumbs, raisins (stoned and chopped), currants (washed and dried), also a teacupful of baking powder.... If served only on occasion--a special occasion--the most scrupulously careful housewife should not be troubled by uneasy sensations."--_Bristol Times and Mirror_.

We should--after a teacupful of baking powder.

* * * * *

* * * * *

RAID JOTTINGS.

A good deal of dissatisfaction is expressed with the state of the cellars to which people have been invited during the raids. "Surely," writes one of our correspondents, "it is a scandal that, at this time in the world's history, some cellars should be totally destitute of wine. That there should be no coal in the coal-cellars is understandable enough; but to ask the timid public into empty wine cellars is a travesty of hospitality."

* * * * *

Every effort will be made when the House reassembles to provide separate cellars for the SPEAKER and Mr. PEMBERTON BILLING.

* * * * *

Mr. JIMMY WILDE, the Welsh boxer, it has been widely announced, had a marvellous escape from an air-bomb. The little champion (for once not in a position to hit back) was standing in the door of his hotel when the projectile dropped, and blew him along the passage, but inflicted no injuries. The world will therefore hear from Mr. WILDE again, whose future antagonists should view with a shudder this inability of the Gothas to knock him out.

* * * * *

Mr. WILDE is, however, not alone in his good fortune. From all the bombarded parts, and from some others, come news of remarkable pieces of good luck, due almost or wholly to the fact that the bombs fell on spots where our correspondents were not standing, although they might easily have been there had they not been elsewhere. The similarity of their experience is indeed most striking.

* * * * *

Mr. HAROLD BEGBIE, for example, who disapproves of soldiers laughing, happened to be in the country on the night of the 24th. Had he been in town he might, in a melancholy reverie caused by the incorrigible light-heartedness of his fellow-countrymen, have wandered bang into the danger zone. No one can be too thankful that he did not.

* * * * *

Sir HENRY WOOD'S project to play TCHAIKOVSKY'S "1812" in such perfect time that the audience will have the pleasure of hearing our anti-aircraft men supply the big-gun effects, although laudable, is, it is feared, doomed to failure.

* * * * *

There was no air raid over London on Wednesday the 26th. The sudden noise (which happily produced no panic) in His Majesty's Theatre was merely Miss LILY BRAYTON dropping the clothes she was not wearing.

* * * * *

A CONSTANT RAIDER writes:--"It is understood that the German airmen's motto--borrowed, without acknowledgment, from the dental profession--is 'We spare no panes.'"

* * * * *

In view of recent events Miss TENNYSON JESSE is considering whether her new novel, _Secret Bread_, should be renamed _Air-raided Bread_.

* * * * *

Mr. CHARLES COCHRAN is very anxious that it should be known that not a single bomb hit him. Had any of them done so, the consequences might have been very serious. This happy immunity being his, he wishes it also to be known that his various and meritorious theatres are doing even more astonishing business than before.

* * * * *

Mr. COCHRAN, however, together with other theatrical managers, has a dangerous rival. The raids are threatening to ruin the matinées now so prevalent by setting up counter attractions. The thousands of people (not only errand-boys) who now stand all day to watch the workmen mend a hole in the roadway caused by a bomb would otherwise, but for this engrossing and never tedious spectacle, be in this theatre or that.

* * * * *

Mr. HALL CAINE telegraphs from the Isle of Man that no bombs having fallen there he remains intact.

* * * * *

* * * * *

THE IDEAL LODGER.

"Wanted, two Single Rooms, in private or boarding house; special arrangements for constant absence."--_Australian Paper_.

* * * * *

LETTERS OF A GENERAL TO HIS SON

(_ON OBTAINING A JUNIOR STAFF APPOINTMENT_).

MY DEAR BOY,--We both congratulate you heartily on your appointment. Acting on your suggestion, I have hinted to your mother that her anxieties for your safety may be considerably lessened in consequence. You will, of course, continue to address letters likely to cause her any apprehension to my club. On entering this new phase of your career you will not take it amiss if I offer you a few words of practical advice:--

1. Do not neglect your advantages. Always visit the line with a double mission, one for the right of the line and one for the left--and see which they are shelling.

2. If they are strafing all along the line, inspect Transport.

3. Cultivate the detached manner when dealing with all but the very senior. This will give you what is called distinction. Charm will come later.

4. What you don't know, guess. If wrong, guess again.

5. Always put off on to others what you cannot do yourself.

6. What little you do, do well--and see that it gets talked about. Medals are going round, and you may as well have them as anybody else.

7. Belong to a good Mess and invite people who are inclined to criticise.

8. When rung up on a subject of which you know nothing, learn to conduct the conversation so that you abstract the necessary enlightenment from the questioner himself (while appearing to be perfectly conversant with what he is talking about), and, if possible, get him to suggest the answer to his own conundrum. In other words, bluff as in poker (which I trust you don't play).

These are just a few little hints that have occurred to me. Your own good sense will guide you as to the rest. Everybody at home is taking a tremendous interest in the War, I'm glad to say. Hardly a day passes but I am asked at least a dozen times when it is going to be over.

Your affectionate Father, etc., etc.

* * * * *

From an order recently issued at the Front:

"Great care must always be exercised in tethering horses to trees, as they are apt to bark, and thereby destroy the trees."

Wow, wow!

* * * * *

* * * * *

SIGNS OF INNS.

The Herald lives in cloister grey; He lives by clerkly rules; He dreams in coats and colours gay, In _argent_, _or_ and _gules_; He blazons knightly shield and banner In dim monastic hall, And in a grave and reverend manner He earns his bread withal.

Were I a herald fair and fit So featly for to limn As though I'd learnt the lore of it Among the seraphim, I'd leave the schools to clerkly people And walk, as dawn begins, From steeple unto distant steeple, And paint the signs of inns.

_The Dragon_, as I'd see him, is A loving beast and long, And oh, the _Goat and Compasses_, 'Twould fill my soul with song; _The Bell_, _The Bull_, _The Rose and Rummer_, Such themes should like me still At Yule, or when the heart of Summer Lies blue on vale and hill.

Let others' blazonry find place Supported, scrolled with gold, A glowing dignity and grace On honoured walls and old; And let it likewise be attended In stately circumstance With mottos writ o' Latin splendid Or courtly words of France;

But I would paint _The Golden Tun_ And others to my mind, And mellow them in rain and sun, And hang them on the wind; And I would say, "My handcraft creaking On this autumnal gale Unto all wayfarers is speaking In praise of rest and ale."

Then bless the man who puts a sign Above his wide door's beam, And bless the hop-root, fruit and vine, For still I dream my dream, Where, as the flushing East turns pinker And tardy day begins, I take the road like any tinker And paint the signs of inns.

* * * * *

"INSTANT DEMAND FOR WARNINGS.

"MAYORS OF LONDON MOVING."

_Evening News_.

They ought to set a better example.

* * * * *

"Certain people seem to have misread the statement last week that flour would be reduced 1s. 11/2d. that flour would be reduced to 1s. 11/2d. but that that that flour would be reduced to 1s. 111/2d. but that amount or somewhere about it would be taken off the former price."--_Rossendale Free Press_.

There ought to be no misunderstanding after this.

* * * * *

"At such close quarters were attackers and attacked that to have used grenades would manifestly have been equally dangerous to both. So, after a brief pause to collect the means, our men began to pelt the Huns with bottles filled with water. Apparently the enemy thought this was some new form of 'frightfulness,' for they speedily threw down their arms and tossed up their hands."--_Daily Telegraph_.

Our contemporary, while rightly applauding the resourcefulness of our bombers, might have given the Germans credit for their remarkable feat of acrobacy.

* * * * *

FOR SERVICES RENDERED.

If ever, in a railing mood, I have unjustly aspersed the Army; if, by reason of deferred pay, over-diluted stew, or leave adjourned, I have accused the Powers That Be of a step-motherly indifference to my welfare, I hereby withdraw unreservedly all such aspersions and accusations. For since my discharge tokens of kindly interest and affection have reached me in such rapid succession that I am kept wondering what the next will be. With a quarter of a million men in his care (as I suppose, since my number was 256801), my fatherly Record Officer has yet time for frequent correspondence with "crocks" like me. He registers all his letters; he makes his instructions so plain that a very suckling might understand them; he takes every precaution lest, in the press of business, I should be overlooked.

I had been at home about a week when his first communication arrived--an unexpected windfall purporting to represent the balance of my pay and allowances. The method of computation would probably have transcended my intelligence if it had been indicated; but there was no attempt at explanation, nor did I desire it. I stamped and signed the receipt form according to unmistakable directions, and returned it to Headquarters. A few days later certain arrears of Separation Allowance came to hand--arrears whose existence our own unaided sagacity would never have revealed. Guided by an illustrative diagram we signed the receipt in due form and returned it. Before we had ceased congratulating ourselves on these accessions, yet another instalment of pay was delivered, with form of receipt as in the previous case. We were almost convinced that the country cottage and the leisured ease of our dreams were within our grasp, but the well ran dry at that point. Some of my balance may yet lurk in the coffers of the Paymaster, but I dare not throw off the yoke of my bondage on the strength of a bare possibility.