"I haven't finished," he said. "When about three months later I went down to Southmouth Convalescent Camp, almost the first man I saw was Private Parks. He was still on crutches, but he had two legs. I greeted him, and then I couldn't resist saying, 'What about the stocking?'
"'I'll tell you, Sir,' he said. 'For a week after I was wounded it was a toss up whether they took the leg off or not. Then a parcel arrived for me. It was the other stocking. My aunt had discovered that she had left it out. That evening the surgeon decided that they need not amputate. I knew they wouldn't, of course, as soon as I received the parcel.'"
James had really finished this time, and after a moment's reflection I said, "I wonder if that's true."
"Do you flatter me?" he asked.
"I don't know about that. Not with intent," I said, "though it would really be more to your credit if you'd made it up."
"As a matter of fact," said James, "I did make it up. It was suggested to me by the heading to a letter in this paper—'The Stocking of Private Parks,' though that appears to be upon quite a different subject. Something agricultural, I gather."
"By a comparison of the wet and dry bulb registrations the dew point and the humility of the atmosphere is determined."
Banbury Guardian.
In the first week of August, at any rate, the atmosphere had no reason to swank.