But now--I wonder how
long the War will last? What I am afraid of is the formation of habits. I
am already guarding against it by talking about all the things that we are
going to do after the War. She quite agrees with me about them, but she
isn't enthusiastic. I put my claims pretty high. The garden is to be
reconstructed, and I am adding a wing to the house. We are going to travel
first, and I am not sure that we shan't have a new cook. And we are to have
an Airedale and an Axminster, and a Stilton and a new Panama.
As a matter of fact that is all bluff on my part. I only want to have
something in hand to bargain with. If I can ever get back to the _status
quo ante_ I will not ask for annexations.
Well, that is how it is. Most eagerly do I fall in with her latest
suggestion that I should let her clean my flannel suit with benzine (I
don't like the smell of it) instead of getting a new one. Only I live in a
growing fear that the day when peace is signed in Europe will be the signal
for an outbreak of a new form of warfare in our happy home.
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Mistress_ (_from upper window_). "WHATEVER ARE YOU DOING
OUT-OF-DOORS AT _THIS_ TIME OF NIGHT, JANE?"
_Romantic Maid_. "ONLY THROWING A FEW CRUMBS TO THE OWLS, MA'AM."]
* * * * *
WHAT DID MR. ASQUITH DO?
A famous story tells how a heckler once broke up a Liberal meeting by
asking with raucous iteration, "What did Mr.
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