Colonel of Swashbucklers. "Nah then, Swank! The wimmin can look arter theirselves. You 'op it and jine yer regiment."
A TOBACCO PLANT.
I had done the second hole (from the vegetable-marrow frame to the mulberry-tree) in two, and was about to proceed to the third hole by the potting-shed when I thought I would go in and convey the glad news to Joan. I found her seated at the table in the breakfast-room with what appeared to be a heap of tea spread out upon a newspaper in front of her. Little slips of torn tissue-paper littered the floor, and on a chair by her side were several empty cardboard boxes. The sight was so novel that I forgot the object of my errand.
"What's all that tea for, and what are you doing with it?" I asked.
"It isn't tea; it's tobacco," Joan replied, "and I'm making cigarettes for the soldiers at the front."
"Where on earth did you get that tobacco from, if it is tobacco?" I went on.
"Let me see now," mused Joan, pausing to lick a cigarette-paper—"was it from the greengrocer's or the butcher's? Ah! I remember. It was from the tobacconist's."
Joan gets like that sometimes, but I do not encourage her.