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 château 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 château 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." A nurse who
spoke a little English translated his song to the French soldiers.
Whilst not desiring to criticise the _rendez-vous_ selected by their
_camarade anglais_, they did not consider that "près d'un vieux taureau"
(near an old bull) was a safe or desirable meeting-place. When I