other would take you in; there'll be enough to pay her something. We
might try and let the house."

And then all the memories of summer evenings and happy Sundays rushed
upon Mary and she broke down.

"Our little garden of which we were so proud!" she sobbed.

"The Belgians," said John sadly, "were proud of their little gardens."

* * *

So far Recruiting Sergeant Denham. Meanwhile Recruiting Sergeant Flossie
had also got to work. Flossie, awaked by the shock of war to the
surprising fact that, after twenty-two years of vain, idle and
inglorious life, she was now of the most complete unimportance to her
country, had (for the first time) a sudden longing to "do something."
And so, being unfitted for needlework, nursing or the kitchen, she
adopted eagerly the suggestion of some stupid and unimaginative old
gentleman, and constituted herself (under God) Supreme Arbiter of Men's
Consciences for the South-West Suburbs of London. Patriotically aglow,
she handed out white feathers to all the un-uniformed young men she
chanced to meet ... the whitest of all coming to John, as he made his
way next morning to the recruiting office.

A. A. M.

* * * * *

Illustration: _Old Servant (to lady who has just returned to her
week-end cottage)._ "DREADFUL THIS NEWS ABOUT THE WAR, MUM; AND YOUNG
MR. KENNETH AWAY WITH THE FLEET, AND ALL THE GENTLEMEN ABOUT HERE
RECALLED TO THEIR REGIMENTS, AND THERE'S BEEN A DISASTER I MUST TELL YOU
ABOUT. THE MOTH HAVE GOT INTO THE DRAWING-ROOM CARPET, MUM."

* * * * *

HOW WILL YOU TAKE IT?

I sometimes doubt whether my bank takes me really seriously. Not that it
isn't businesslike. They let me know to the minute when I have overdrawn
my account by five and elevenpence; but they cash my cheques with a
certain air of patronage, whereas, if you look at things properly, the
patronage is all on my side.

Every Saturday morning a man comes to my bank to cash a cheque for a
hundred and fifty pounds. (How he gets through all that money in a week
I have never had the courage to ask him.) Every Saturday morning I come
to my bank to cash a cheque for--well, whatever it happens to be, you
know.

The trouble is that we nearly always coincide; only the other man always
seems to coincide first. And, as he takes his hundred and fifty on a
selective principle, I am beginning to know from bitter experience what
he will ask for and how lo