broached the subject at breakfast as the General was probing his second
poached egg.

"This," said the General, who is rather given to the vernacular, "is the
limit. A North-South-East-West report is preposterous. Something must be
done. Haven't we got a weather-vane of our own? Pass the marmalade, will
you?"

Four people reached hastily for the delicacy, and the O.O. feeling out of
it passed the milk for no reason. (Generals really get a very good time.
People have been known to pass things to them unasked.)

"What about those two vanes in our last headquarters, Sir?" said the Staff
Captain brightly--he is very bright and bird-like in the mornings--"the
ones the padre thought were Russian fire-guards. Can't we get them? They
aren't ours, but then they aren't anybody's--they've been there a year, the
old woman told me."

"Where's the Orderly Officer?" (He was there with a mouthful of toast.)
"Take the mess limber and fetch 'em back if the Heavy Group Artillery will
let you--they're in there now, aren't they?"

"And if you're g-going into the town g-get some fish for dinner," said the
Brigade Major; "everlasting ration beef makes my s-stammer worse."

"Why?" said the General.

"Indigestion--nerves, Sir; I can hardly talk over the telephone at all
after dinner."