sweets so that they may not be disappointed and that there may
be something for his little friends to find. I remember seeing one
Tommy, sitting in the dusty road with a large pot of marmalade
between his legs, dealing out spoonfuls with perfect justice and
impartiality to a circle of youngsters. He speaks to them of his own
little "nippers" at home and they in turn tell him of their father who
is fighting, of their mother who now works in the fields, and of baby
who is fearfully ignorant, does not know the difference between the
French and the "Engleesch" and who insisted on calling the great
English General who had stayed at their farm "Papa." It matters
little that they cannot understand each other, and it does not in the
least prevent them from holding lengthy conversations.

I told my companion at table that whilst visiting one of the hospitals
in France I had heard how one Englishman had been sent into a
far hospital in Provence by mistake. He was not seriously injured
and promptly constituted himself king of the ward. On arrival he
insisted on being shaved. As no shaving brush was available the
"piou-piou" in the next bed lathered him with his tooth brush. The
French cooking did not appeal to him, and he grumbled continuously.
The directress of the hospital sent her own cook from her chateau
to cater for Mr. Atkins. An elaborate menu was prepared. Tommy
glanced through it, ordered everything to be removed, and commanded
tea and toast. Toast-making is not a French art and the chateau
chef was obliged to remain at the hospital and spend his time
carefully preparing the toast and seeing that it was served in
good condition. When Mr. Atkins felt so disposed he would
summon a piou-piou to give him a French lesson or else request
the various inmates of the ward to sing to him. He would in turn
render that plaintive ditty, "Down by the Old Bull and Bush."