is clubs and began to pace
the room. "You're filled with the idea that the only way a man can serve
his country is by doing something he absolutely detests. That's why you
made me a special constable." He stopped and glared at her. "A special
constable! Me!"

"Darling, it was your own idea entirely."

"You said to yourself, 'There are men who would make excellent special
constables--men with red faces and angry moustaches who take naturally
to ordering other people about, men who instinctively push their way
into the middle of a row when they see one, men with a lust for gore,
great powerful men who have learnt ju-jitsu. But the fact that they'd
all rather like it shows that it can't really be their duty to join;
they wouldn't be making a big enough sacrifice. The men we want are the
quiet, the mild, the inoffensive, the butterflies of life, the men who
would simply loathe being special constables, the men who would be
entirely useless at it'--and, having said this to yourself, you looked
round and you saw _me_."

Mrs. Jeremy smiled and shook her head at her husband, sighed again, and
returned to her work.

"And so now I'm a special constable, and I wear a belt and a truncheon,
and what good do I do? Baby loves it, I admit that; Baby admires me
immensely. When Nurse says, 'If you're not a good girl the special
constable will be after you,' Baby shrieks with delight. But officially,
in the village, I am useless.... Oh but I forgot, I arrested a man this
morning."

"Jeremy, and you never told me!" said Mrs. Jeremy excitedly.

"Well, I wasn't quite sure at the time whether I arrested him or he
arrested me. But in the clearer light of evening I see that it was
really I who was doing the arresting. At any rate it was I who had the
belt and the note-book."

"Was it a German spy?"

"No, it was old Jack, rather drunk. I arrested him for being intoxicated
on a bridge--the one over the brook, you know, by Claytons. He put his
arm round my neck and we started for the Haverley police-station
together. I didn't want to go to the police-station, because it's three
miles off, but Jack insisted.... He had me tight by the neck. I couldn't
even make a note."

"Wasn't he afraid of your truncheon?"

"My darling, one couldn't hit old Jack with a truncheon; he's such a
jolly old boy when he's sober." Jeremy played nervously with his wife's
scissors, and added, "Besides he was doing things with the truncheon
himself."

"What s