"Read, read!" we clamoured, as his voice grew husky and indistinct.

"Read!" again we shouted, as Mother came and took the paper gently
from him.

"When you're all quiet, children," she began, devouring the words
before her.

_Quiet!_ Even the canary held its breath while Mother read that
wonderful paragraph.

It was a long one, and every word of it a tribute to our magnificent
Chris, who had organised a small volunteer party, attacked a strong
point, and captured fifteen of the enemy and a machine-gun, for which
gallant act he had been awarded the M.C.

With lingering pride she went through it a second time, and only then
did we see that she was staring at the paper, proudly and fiercely,
through the handle of the hen-house key!

* * * * *

[Illustration: _First A.B. (indicating old tramp steamer in ballast)_.
"THANK 'EAVENS WE AIN'T GOT PROPELLERS WHAT STICK OUT LIKE THAT ON
THIS 'ERE JUNK, BILL."

_Second A.B._ "WHAT ARE YOU GROUSING ABOUT NOW?"

_First A.B._ "WHY, THE BLOOMIN' FIRST-LOOTENANT WOULD MAKE US POLISH
THE BLINKIN' THING."]