The old lady eyed the empty dish and held up her hands in astonishment. “Other two!” she exclaimed. “Why, I thought that one was enough for the three of you. Well, well, I’m done altogether. I can’t beg, borrow, or steal a bit, and I’m right down sorry for you, that I am.”
“It’s all right, mother,” laughed the soldiers. “It’s too bad of us—we were only having a joke. The steak’s under the table.”
“Good gracious!” screamed the lady. “So is Rover!”
Instantly the men dived underneath the table to secure their meat. They saw a big black retriever dog, looking on very good terms with himself, beside an empty dish. The steak was gone.
And three very tired and very hungry men made a meal off bread and cheese. It is dangerous to say “Rover” in their hearing nowadays.
SCARS OF BATTLE
“Yes, John received his trunk this morning. It’s been somewhere over there in Germany for eleven weeks.”
“Where is John?”
“Why, he’s out in the garage shooting bullets through the trunk. He thinks they’ll make it look so much more interesting, don’t you know.”