fforts of Messrs.
Fortnum and Mason, and thus added generously to our menus. It was a
glorious feeling, pushing open the door of that farm and coming in from
all the wet, darkness, mud and weariness of four days in the trenches.
After the supper, I disappeared into the back kitchen place and did what
was possible in the shaving and washing line. The Belgian family were
all herded away in here, as their front rooms were now our exclusive
property. I have never quite made out what the family consisted of, but,
approximately, I should think, mother and father and ten children. I am
pretty certain about the children, as about half a platoon stood around
me whilst shaving, and solemnly watched me with dull brown Flemish eyes.
The father kept in the background, resting, I fancy, from his usual
day's work of hiding unattractive turnips in enormous numbers, under
mounds of mud--(the only form of farming industry which came under my
notice in Flanders).

The mother, however, was "all there," in more senses than one. She was
of about observation balloon proportions, and had an unerring eye for
the main chance. Her telegraphic address, I should imagine, was
"Fleecem." She had one sound commercial idea, _i.e._, "charge as much as
you can for everything they want, hide everything they _do_ want, and
slowly collect any property, in the way of food, they have in the
cellar; so that, in the future, there shall be no lack of bully and jam
in our farm, at any rate."

They had one farm labourer, a kind of epileptic who, I found out, gave
his services in return for being fed--no pay. He will regret this
contract of his in time, as the food in question was bully beef and plum
and apple jam, with an occasional change to Maconochie and apple and
plum jam. That store in the cellar absolutely precludes him from any
change from this diet for many years to come. Of course, I must say his
work was not such as would be classed amongst the skilled or
intellectual trades; it was, apparently, to pump all the accumulated
drainage from a subterranean vault out into the yard in front, about
twice a week, the rest of his time being taken up by assisting at the
hiding of the turnips.

After I had washed and shaved under the critical eyes of Angele, Rachel,
Andre and Co., I retired into an inner chamber which had once been an
apple store, and went to bed on a straw mattress in the corner. Pyjamas
at last! and an untroubled sleep. Occasionally in the nigh