obtain. The officers' club filled up and the restaurants reaped a
harvest.

The authorities on these occasions behave in a peculiarly irritating
way. They will not, perhaps cannot, promise that their steamer will
sail at any particular hour or indeed on any particular day. Nor
will they give an assurance that it will not sail. The eager
traveller is expected to sit on his haversack on the quay and watch,
day and night, lest the ship of his desire should slip out unknown to
him. It is, of course, impossible for any one to do this for very
long, and an M.L.O.--M.L.O.'s are sometimes humane men--will drop a
hint that the steamer will stay where she is for two or even four
hours. Then the watchers make a dash for club, hotel, or restaurant,
at their own risk, of course; the M.L.O. gives no kind of promise or
guarantee.

There was at that time, probably still is, a small shop not far from
Base Head-Quarters which had over its door the words "Mary's Tea," in
large letters. The name was an inspiration. It suggested "England,
home, and beauty," everything dearest to the heart of the young
officer in a strange land. As a matter of fact there was nothing
English about the place. The cakes sold were delightfully French. The
tea was unmistakably not English. The shop was run by five or six
girls with no more than a dozen words of English among them. When the
leave boat was held up "Mary's Tea" was crammed with young officers.

I remember seeing a party of these cheery boys sitting down to a
square meal one afternoon. They were still wearing their trench boots
and fighting kit. They were on their way home from the front and they
were hungry, especially hungry for cakes. There were four of them.
"Mary"--they called all the girls Mary, the name of the shop invited
that familiarity--brought them tea and a dish piled high with cakes,
frothy meringues, pastry sandwiches with custard in the middle,
highly ornamental sugary pieces of marzipan, all kinds of delicate
confectionery. After the fare of the trenches these were dreams of
delight, but not very satisfying. The dish was cleared. The
spokesman, the French scholar of the party, demanded more. "Mary"--he
did not translate the name into "Marie"--"_encore gateaux, au moins
trois douzaine_." Mary, smiling, fetched another dish. I suppose she
kept count. I did not, nor I am sure did the feasters. They finished
those and repeated the encore. The _au moins trois douzaine_ was a
ridicul