PEAS AND PLEDGES.
"Has anything special," I said, "been happening during my absence?"
"We are up to our chins in work," said Francesca.
"But is it real work?"
"Of course it is. We've formed a General Committee, of which everybody's a member, including you, and we've formed an Executive Committee, of which there are about a dozen members. And then there are some Sub-Committees."
"Yes, I know. The Executive Committee thinks it's going to do all the work, but it's got to report to the General Committee, and it it'll be a great piece of luck if the General Committee doesn't insist on asserting itself by upsetting all the decisions of the Executive Committee."
"Oh, but our General Committee isn't going to be like that at all. There won't be any petty jealousy about our General Committee. Besides, the Executive Committee has power to act, and it doesn't need to report till the Annual Meeting of the General Committee, which is to be held a year from now. When that time comes lots of things will have happened."
"That," I said, "is one of the truest things you've ever said. Even the War may be over by that time."
"But if it isn't we shall all be living on swedes or pea-soup, or rice-bread or all three together; and we shall have a food controller in every village, and our Committees won't be wanted."
"I beg your pardon; they'll be more wanted than ever to keep the controller straight and act as a buffer between him and the population."
"But they won't know they're a buffer, and they won't like it when some tactless person tells them. Anyhow, that's a long way off, and in the meantime we've got the land."
"Who've got what land?"
"Our Committee," said Francesca, "have got two acres of land from Mr. Carberry, and we're going to grow a crop of peas on it so that everybody may have pea-soup in case of a pinch."
"But what about the peas?" I said, "Have you made sure of those?"
"We had a good deal of trouble about them, but we've got a firm promise of six bushels."
"Capital! But are you quite sure you know how to bring the land and the peas together?"
"Well, I'm not so much of an expert as I should like to be, but Mr. Bolton 's a practical farmer, and he's going to do all he can for us."
"Will he plough it?"
"It's been ploughed twice, so he's undertaken to harrow it and scarify it—doesn't it sound awful?—and then something else is going to happen to it, but I forget what it's called."
"Wouldn't it be a good thing, at some stage or other, to plant the peas?"
"Yes, it would; but you can't do it as simply as all that, can you? Isn't there something highly agricultural that you must do first?"
"I should chuck 'em in and chance it."
"A nice farmer you'd make," she said scornfully. "I'm remembering it now. It's got something to do with drills."
"Like the Volunteers?"
"No, not a bit like the Volunteers."
"Well, then, like potatoes."
"Yes, more like potatoes, except that they're peas in this case."
"How true," I said.
"Yes. And don't forget that while you were away we formed a League of Honour in the village and bound ourselves to observe the Food Controller's rations."
"Am I a member?"
"Yes, we thought you'd like to be one, so I gave your name in."
"I think a man must pledge his own honour. He can't have it done for him."
"There's no public ceremony. You can just pledge yourself in your mind, and then put a pledge card in one of the windows."
"I'll have tea first," I said, "and then I'll choose the window, and then I'll pledge myself in my mind."
"No, you can do the pledging now."
"I've done it, while you were talking."
"And after all it's only the old rations according to Lord Devonport, and we've been working under them for some time now."
"So we have," I said; "but of course the card in the window makes all the difference."
R.C.L.
THE SERVANT PROBLEM.
Lady. "And why did your last mistress——"
Applicant (loftily). "Excuse me, Madam!"
Lady. "Well—er—your last employer——"
Applicant. "I beg your pardon, Madam!"
Lady. "Well, then, your last—er—pray what do you call those in whose service you are engaged?"
Applicant. "Clients, Madam." [Collapse of interrogator.]
Our Modest Contemporaries.
"Had it been intended to make any new pronouncement of importance the Berlin Government would have taken steps to circulate the speech by wireless in time for publication in 'The Star' yesterday evening."—The Star.
It is possible that Dr. Bethmann-Hollweg was misled by our contemporary's habit of publishing its "7.0 Edition" at 4.30.
From an obituary notice:—
"He had studied Eastern religions, and claimed to have been initiated as a llama of Tibet."—Daily Mail.
Or should it be the Grand Lama of Peru?
"The —— Food Economy Committee were astounded yesterday at the secretary's report of a collier's family of six persons who consumed twenty half-quartern loaves in one week, averaging twenty pounds of bread per person."—Sunday Chronicle.
It is not stated whether the astonishment was caused by the family's appetite or the secretary's arithmetic.
Fond Mother (reading). "'Our captain is one of the best, and we're ready to follow him to h—l.' I suppose he means the Hindenburg Line."