Read Ebook: Punch or the London Charivari Volume 152 May 30 1917 by Various Seaman Owen Editor

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Ebook has 240 lines and 17344 words, and 5 pages

"Jimmy," she said apprehensively, "you aren't marrying me for it, are you?"

"How can I tell till I know how much you've got?"

"Well, at a pound a day it would take us to February 19th. You'd have to begin from there."

"What an heiress! Promise you'll never cast it in my teeth, dear, that I've got less than you. I've got enough War Loan to take us on to the 23rd and halfway through the 24th; and Exchequer Bonds and things which will see us through--er--to about 7.15 P.M. on March 31st. Then there's my writing."

"Oh," she said in a surprised tone "do they pay you for that? I always thought you gave them so much a line to put things in--like advertisements, you know."

"Madam," I answered with dignity, "when you find yourself, from April 1st until April 20th, depending each year upon my pen for the very bread you eat, perchance you will regret those wounding words."

"Well, what else?"

I shook my head.

"That's all," I said. "We don't seem to have got very far, do we? Couldn't you--er--trim hats, or take in washing, or something?"

"What salary?"

"Well, whatever they give you for doing whatever you do. What were you getting before the War?"

"Oh, nothing much."

"Really," I began stiffly.

"If you're ashamed to say it right out, just tell me how far it would take us."

"To about the end of September, I should think."

"Oh, dear! Three more months to go." A frown wrinkled her forehead; then her brow cleared. "Why, of course we haven't counted in the holidays."

"They aren't usually an asset."

"That leaves November and December," she mused. "Oh, well, there's nothing else for it--we must quarrel."

"What, now?"

"No, stupid. Every October 31st, by letter. Then I'll go home to mother, and you'll stay with Uncle Alfred some more. I hope he'll like it."

"Y-e-s," I said doubtfully. "That would do it, of course. But we shan't see very much of each other that way, shall we? Still, I suppose.... Good Heavens!"

"What's the matter?"

"Phyllis, we've forgotten all about income-tax. That means about another two months to account for."

There was a pause while we both thought deeply.

"Couldn't you ..." we began together at last, and each waited for the other to finish.

"Look here," I remarked, "we're both very good at finding things for the other to do. Isn't there anything we could do together--a job for 'respectable married couple,' you know?"

"Why, of course--caretaking! We'll look after ducal mansions in the silly season, when everybody's out of town. Then we'll see simply heaps of one another."

"Yes," I agreed. "And then in the evenings, when you've scrubbed the steps and the woodwork and polished the brass and dusted the rooms and cleaned the grate and cooked the meals and tidied the kitchen, and I've inspected the gas-meter and fed the canary, or whatever it is a he-care-taker does, we'll dress ourselves up and go and sit in the ducal apartments and pretend we're 'quality.'"

"A Respectable woman wants situation as dairymaid, laundress, or fowl."

But the War Office, Charles, is not as other places and War Officers are not like the common sort. Hubert, arriving in his best fighting trim, was at once ejected by the policeman at the door. He underestimated the importance of that official and his office, otherwise he would not have adopted the just-dropping-in-to-have-a-chat-with-a-friend-inside attitude. From the constable's cold response he realised that, in tackling the W.O. single-handed, he was attempting a big thing, whereas the W.O., in tackling him, was not under the same disadvantage. Then he did what was unusual with him; he paused to think before resuming the offensive. What he wanted, he felt, was big guns. The House of Commons caught his eye and reminded him of politicians. He recalled a slight acquaintance with one of the more important of these and went round to call upon him personally. It was not his idea to obtain any such authority as would demolish all opposition at the W.O.; he just hoped to get a personal chit, which would act as a smoke barrage and at least cover his advance right into the middle of the enemy defences.

So Hubert asked for the politician in person, but only got his secretary. This gentleman, having elicited that Hubert's train for France left at 5 P.M., regretted that the politician would not be visible till 6. This opposition warmed Hubert's blood; he asked for a statement in writing. After some little discussion he got it, since the secretary, for all his caution, could see no harm in an unofficial note, addressed to no one in particular, and stating merely that Hubert wanted to see the politician and the politician was out till 6 P.M.

The little captain is one of those who state their grievances to themselves, when no other audience is available. During his return journey to the W.O. mental processes of no little heat and significance took place in his busy head, he putting up an overwhelming case to show why his leave ought to be, and must be, extended. The force of this case gave him such a burning sense of justice as to carry him, this time, safely past the policeman.

Five rows of barbed wire, two of them electrified, would be but a poor substitute for the barriers of the W.O. Before you set foot on the staircase you have to produce a ticket, and it is supposed that the porter, who has the forms to be filled in, forfeits a day's pay every time he parts with one. Hubert, gradually losing confidence, wrote upon the form all he could think of about himself, and handed it to the porter, who received it with reluctance, read it with suspicion, and disappeared with a grunt. What he did with it is not known; probably someone got into communication with the B.E.F. to know if such a person as Hubert existed, and, if so, why? Meanwhile Hubert had good time to realise that no one loved him and that this was cold brutal war at last.

Bit by bit the porter drifted back and gave Hubert his form, now stamped and become his ticket. The porter having finished with him, he passed on and, after many wanderings, found the door of the room where his sentence would be passed. Bracing himself up and clearing his throat, he prepared to knock and enter. Fortunately, however, his audacious intention was observed by an official and frustrated. He was commanded to write something more about himself in the book provided for that purpose, and to go on waiting. Being now an expert at writing and waiting he did as he was bid, spending the next few hours of his life remodelling his case in less fierce and glowing terms.

At last the door of the room persuaded itself to open and let out a real red god, who looked upon Hubert, took an instant dislike to him, relieved him of his ticket and went in again. During the ensuing period of suspense the last vestige of Hubert's personality departed from him.

Again the door opened and another red one, even more godlike, emerged clamouring for Hubert and his blood. Had he still been in possession of his ticket Hubert would have fled. There was nothing for it but to confess his identity and to hope for mercy. The god, who clearly had not more than three and a half seconds to spare, demanded an explanation of his presence. Hubert admitted that once, in a moment of impudent folly, he had thought of asking for a day's extension. The god said nothing, but a light smouldered in his eyes which intimated to Hubert that if he did not at once produce some paramount excuse for so monstrous a request the War would be held up and the military machine would be concentrated on punishing Hubert. His tongue clove to the roof of his mouth; even if it had been available it would have helped little, for it is more than mere words that the gods require. His hand searched in his pockets and produced the return half of his leave warrant, a five-franc note, a box of matches, a recently purchased paper flag and the politician's secretary's note. The first and the last were taken, the rest fell to the floor, the door closed once more and again Hubert was alone.

Yours ever, HENRY.

In spite of a natural disinclination to look a gift sausage in the mouth.

A CALL TO THE COW PONIES.

They sent us from Coorong and Cooper The pick of the Wallaby Track To serve us as gunner and trooper, To serve us as charger and hack; From Budgeribar to Blanchewater They rifled the runs of the West, That whatever his fate in the slaughter A man might ride home on the best.

We dealt with the distant Dominion, We bought in the far Argentine; The worth of our buyers' opinion Is proved to the hilt in the line; The Clydes from the edge of the heather, The Shires from the heart of the grass, And the Punches are pulling together The guns where the conquerors pass.

So come with us, buckskin and sorrel, And come with us, skewbald and bay; Your country's girth-deep in the quarrel, Your honour is roped to the fray; Where flanks of your comrades are foaming 'Neath saddle and trace-chain and band, We look for the kings of Wyoming To speak for the sage-brush and sand.

W.H.O.

From an Indian trade-circular:--

"All our goods are guaranteed made of the best material and equal to none in the market."

Followed, it may be presumed, by well-nigh interrupted peals of thunder and nearly occasional downpours of rain.

"One always feels humiliated when one is stumped about a quite common thing.... All you could see a little way iff was that they were very dwarg and very thick, and the peculiar coloul baffled us...."

Stumped we may be by the above, but humiliated--never!

A glance at a well-known publisher's window, during a recent visit to London, provided me with material for a little possible quiet amusement, and with this end in view I penned the following:--

DEAR MR. PETHERTON,--When up in town the other day I was surprised and delighted to notice in Messrs. Egbert Arnwell's window two works of yours, one on Bi-Metallism and the other on the Differential and Integral Calculus. Nothing but the prices prevented my purchasing a copy of each book at once.

I cannot resist writing to congratulate you on the publication of these volumes, which will, I am sure, add to the instruction if not to the gaiety of nations. Of course I knew--and have had the most complete olfactory proofs--that you were a chemist of at least strong views, but had no idea that your range of knowledge was so extensive as it apparently is.

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