ht
be worse, an' I ain't never a one to grouse."

Then someone who knew "Pongo" well made an apparently irrelevant remark.
"There's plum and apple jam for rations again," he said.

"Pongo" rose to the fly at once. "Gawd!" he said, "if that ain't the
bloomin' limit. I'd like to get me 'and round the neck of the bloke what
gets all the raspberry an' apricot an' marmalade. 'Ere 'ave I been two
years in the trenches, an' what 'ave I seen but plum an' apple? If it
ain't plum an' apple, it's damson an' apple, which is jest the same only
there's more stones in it. It do make me fair wild...."

"Pongo," insinuated someone at this moment, "I thought as 'ow you never
grumbled."

"Pongo's" voice sank to its ordinary level. "That ain't grumblin'," he
said. "I ain't a one to grumble."

But for the better part of an hour I heard him growling away to himself,
and "plum and apple" was the burden of his growl. For even "Pongo"
Simpson cannot always practise what he preaches.

XIII

THE CONVERT

John North, of the Non-Combatant Corps, leaned over the counter and
smiled lovingly up into the shop girl's face. By an apparent accident,
his hand slid across between the apple basket and the tins of biscuits,
and came into gentle contact with hers. Knowing no French, his
conversation was strictly limited, and he had to make amends for this by
talking with his hand--by gently stroking her palm with his
earth-stained thumb.

Mademoiselle Therese smiled shyly at him and her hand remained on the
counter.

Private John North, thus encouraged, grew still bolder. He clasped her
fingers in his fist, and was just wondering if he dared kiss them, when
a gruff voice behind him caused him to stiffen, and to pretend he wanted
nothing but a penny bar of chocolate.

"Now then, come orf it," said the newcomer, a private with the trench
mud still caked on his clothes. "She's my young laidy, ain't yer,
Therese?"

Therese smiled rather vaguely, for she knew no more Cockney than John
North knew French.

"You clear out of 'ere," continued the linesman. "I don't want none o'
you objector blokes 'anging around this shop, and if you come 'ere again
I won't arf biff you one."

Unfortunately, it is the nature of woman to enjoy the sight of two men
quarrelling for her favours, and Therese, guessing what was happening,
was so unwise as to smile sweet encouragement at John North.

Even a Conscientious Objector loses his conscience when there is