*

"In reply to Mr. JOYNSON-HICKS, Mr. MCKENNA said:--Germans cannot
land in the United Kingdom without the express permission of the
Secretary of State."

New motto for Great Britain: "MCKENNA and the Navy our shield."

* * * * *

Illustration: _Shopkeeper._ "CANDLES ARE UP IN PRICE TO-DAY, Y'KNOW,
MRS. O'FLYNN--ON ACCOUNT OF THE WAR."

_Mrs. O'Flynn._ "OCH! BAD CESS TO THEM GERMANS! _WHY CAN'T THEY BE
FIGHTING BY DAYLIGHT_?"

* * * * *

A SERVANT OF THE KING.

"Your King and country need YOU."

"Lor!"

Tilda Perkins, her cap awry and a smudge on her diminutive nose, came to
a sudden halt, arrested by the staring blue type.

"Your King and country need YOU."

That personal appeal drove straight home. Tilda's heart swelled; a flush
of excitement invaded her cheeks.

"Bless 'em! They shall 'ave me," she vowed in a fervour of
self-immolation.

Tightly clutching the newspaper containing her master's breakfast
haddock she scudded off, ablaze with patriotic fire.

"There 'tis, Ma'am," she gasped breathlessly, plumping down her burden
on the kitchen table. "An' now I'm goin'."

"Going! Where?"

"To KING GEORGE, God bless 'im. The poster ses 'e wants me."

Her mistress shook a regretful head.

"No, Tilda. It's not you and I he wants."

Gloom unutterable descended upon Tilda as her mistress expounded the
situation.

"Men 'as all the luck," she jerked out. "I ain't surprised them
Sufferajettes got sick o' things."

A pause.

"Still, I s'pose it ain't KING GEORGE'S fault. I'll 'elp 'im out as well
as I can," she announced.

It was a resolute Tilda who awaited her swain at the kitchen door that
night.

"Take off yer shoes," she said abruptly.

Jem obeyed.

"'Old up yer 'ead. Don't loll," came the sharp command.

Jem drew himself up to attention, and Tilda manipulated an inch tape.

"Sixty-three inches an' a bit. Twelves into sixty go five. Five feet
three an' a scrap. You'll jest do," she said with a complacent nod.

Jem, motionless, but turning a fine blush-rose under the touch of the
busy fingers, levelled an enquiring gaze at the preoccupied face.

"I'm giving you to KING GEORGE," remarked Tilda. "I'm sorry you ain't
taller, but he'll understand I've done the best I can for 'im," she
added with a little sigh.

"But--but--" faltered Jem.

"There ain't no buts about it," broke in Tilda with swift asperity