t it took a bit of doing,
but that once you had the secret they would trot up and eat out of
your hand.

Having thus spoken he swallowed three whiskies in rapid succession and
rushed away to jump a lorry-ride to Germany, and I have not seen him
since, much to my regret, for I need his advice, I do.

* * * * *

We splashed into the hamlet of Sailly-le-Petit at about eight o'clock
of a pouring dark night, to find the inhabitants abed and all doors
closed upon us.

However, by dint of entreaties whispered through key-holes and
persuasions cooed under window-shutters, I charmed most of them open
again and got my troop under cover, with the exception of one section.
Its Corporal, his cape spouting like a miniature watershed, swam up.
"There's a likely-lookin' farm over yonder, Sir," said he, "but the
old gal won't let us in. She's chattin' considerable." I found a group
of numb men and shivering horses standing knee-deep in a midden, the
men exchanging repartee with a furious female voice that shrilled at
them from a dark window. "Is that the officer?" the voice demanded.
I admitted as much. "Then remove your band of brigands. Go home to
England, where you belong, and leave respectable people in peace. The
War is finished."

I replied with some fervour (my boots were full of water and my cap
dribbling pints of iced-water down the back of my neck) that I was
not playing the wandering Jew round one-horse Picard villages in late
December for the amusement I got out of it and that I could be relied
on to return to England at the earliest opportunity, but for the
present moment would she let us in out of the downpour, please? The
voice soared to a scream. No, she would not, not she. If we chose to
come soldiering we must take the consequences, she had no sympathy
for us. She called several leading saints to witness that her barn
was full to bursting anyhow and there was no room. That was that.
She slammed the window-shutter and retired, presumably to bed. The
Corporal, who had been scouting round about, returned to report room
for all hands in the barn, which was quite empty. Without further ado
I pushed all hands into the barn and left them for the night.

Next morning, while walking in the village street, I beheld a
remarkable trio approaching. It consisted of a venerable cleric--his
skirts held high enough out of the mud to reveal the fact that he
favoured flannel underclothing and Britis