So I tried chattin' with the Major's secretary, a Lieutenant Barnes. The Major must have picked him out on account of that serious face of his. First off, I had an idea Barnes was sad just because he was detailed at this soggy place instead of bein' sent to France. I asks him sort of sympathizin' how long he's been here. He says three months.
"In this hole?" says I. "How do you keep from goin' bug-house?"
"I don't mind it," says he. "I find the work quite interesting."
"But evenin's?" I suggests.
"I write to my wife," says he.
I wanted to ask him what about, but I choked it back. "Oh, yes," says I. "Of course. Any youngsters at home!"
"No," says he prompt. "Life is complicated enough without children."
"Oh, I don't know," says I. "They'd sort of help, I should think."
He shakes his head and glares gloomy out of the window. "I cannot agree with you, " says he. "Perhaps you have never seriously considered just what it means to be a parent."
"Maybe not," says I, "but——"