one by."

"And she didn't come to the door!"

"No, you're right there; somebody else did, but I heard my one--I mean
the Jersey one--I mean the Yellow one--ask somebody that riddle; but the
person--the sister or whatever she was who came to the door--finished me
off before I heard the answer, and somehow or other it's been running
through my head ever since. It isn't the girl, you know, it's--it's the
aggravation of it. I asked our sergeant the other day and he doesn't
know. One of these days I shall be giving it as an order--'Deaf section!
Tickle nine children!' Do you--do you know who lives in that cottage?"

"Nobody."

"But she--they were there that night."

"Yes, but they don't really live there. We call them the Swallows
because they migrate so much. Baby Swallow is very pretty, isn't she?
and, by-the-by, she's rather afraid that you may be worrying about that
riddle."

"Me--I?"

This was the moment for which I had been waiting, but the wee lieutenant
took cover, hunting his dessert fork on the floor long after Maria had
brought up reinforcements.

"Why, yes, she ought to have said, 'dumb,' not 'deaf.' I've forgotten
the answer--something about 'gesticulate.' She's coming to tea with me
to-morrow. Would you like me to ask her what the answer is, and write it
down for you?"

Our hostess gave the signal for our half company to retire, the other
half to stay down in the smoke, and I added, as I went out, "That will
lay the riddle nicely, won't it? If it had been the girl and not the
aggravation, I should have asked you to tea too."

The wee lieutenant surrendered at that, blushing above the door-handle.

"I--I--I say, I should like to get the answer first-hand. Won't you ask
me to tea, please?"

I don't yet know what it feels like to capture a prisoner of war, but
that's how I assisted at the taking of a prisoner of love.

* * * * *

Illustration:

_The Jester._ "HALLO, SONNY! CHOOSIN' YER TURKEY?"

_Diminutive Patriot._ "GARN! YER DON'T CATCH ME 'AVIN' TURKEY THESE
DAYS. WY, I'D AS SOON EAT A GERMAN SAUSAGE!"

* * * * *

KEEPING IN THE LIMELIGHT.

It was a grand meeting of the literary gents. They had all heard about
the War from their publishers, and there had been one or two suggestive
allusions in _The Author_. The question of the moment was, "How can we
help?" The chairman was the President of the Society of Authors, who
knew