mixture."--_Answers_.

The difficulty is to get the egg.

* * * * *

_APRÈS LA GUERRE_.

"_On ne sait jamais le dessous des cartes_," as the perplexing dialect
of the aborigines of this country would put it. William and I, when
we used to discuss after-the-war prospects o' nights in the old
days, were more or less resigned to a buckshee year or two of filling
shell-holes up and pulling barbed wire down. Instead of which we all
go about the country taking in each others' education. No one, we
gather, will be allowed to go home until he has taken his B.A. with
honours. And after that--But it would be better to begin at the
beginning.

It began within ten days of the signing of the armistice, assuming
the shape of an official inquiry from Division, a five-barred document
wherein somebody with a talent for confusing himself (and a great
contempt for the Paper Controller) managed to ask every officer the
same question in five different ways. They cancelled each other out
after a little examination and left behind merely a desire to discover
whether or not each officer had a job waiting for him on his return
to civil life. William and I took the thing at a gallop, stuck down
a succinct "Yes. Yes, No, No. Yes," subscribed our signatures and
returned the documents--or so William proposed to do--"for your
information and necessary inaction."