as made from
biscuits ground to powder, boiled and then mixed with jam. Never was
anything like it. We lingered over the dish loud in our praise of the
energetic Stoner. "By God, I'll give you a job as head-cook in my
establishment at your own salary," said Pryor. "Strike me ginger,
pink, and crimson if ever I ate anything like it," exclaimed Bill. (p. 126)
"We must 'ave a bit of this at every meal from now till the end of the
war."

Coffee, wine, and cigars came in due course, then Section 3 clamoured
for an address.

"Ool give it?" asked Bill.

"Pat," said Mervin.

"Come on Pat," chorused Section 3.

I never made a speech in my life, but I felt that this was the moment
to do something. I got to my feet.

"Boys," I said, "it is a pleasure to rise and address you, although
you haven't shaved for days, and your faces remind me every time I
look at them of our rather sooty mess-tins."

(Bill: "Wot of yer own phiz.")

"Be quiet, Bill," I said, and continued. "Of course, none of you are
to blame for the adhesive qualities of mud, it must stick somewhere,
and doubtless it preferred your faces; but you should have shaved; the
two hairs on Pryor's upper lip are becoming very prominent."

"Under a microscope," said Mervin.

"Hold your tongue," I shouted, and Mervin made a mock apology. "To-night's
dinner was a grand success," I said, "all did their work (p. 127)
admirably."

"All but you," muttered Bill, "yer spent 'arf the time writin' when
yer should have been peelin' taters or pullin' onions."

"I resent the imputation of the gentleman at the rear," I said, "if I
wasn't peeling potatoes and grinding biscuits I was engaged in
chronicling the doings of Section 3. I can't make you fat and famous
at the same time, much though I'd like to do both. You are an
estimable body of men; Goliath, the big elephant--

(Goliath: "Just a baby elephant, Pat.")

"Mervin, who has travelled far and who loves bully stew; Pryor who
dislikes girls with thick ankles, Kore who makes wash-out puns, Bill
who has an insatiable desire for fresh eggs, and Stoner--I see a blush
on his cheeks and a sparkle in his brown eyes already--I repeat the
name Stoner with reverence. I look on the mess-tins which held the
confiture and almost weep--because it's all eaten. There's only one
thing to be done. Gentlemen, are your glasses charged?"

"There's nothin' now but water," said Bill.

"Water shame," remarked the punster.

"Hold y