An' 'ow the letters must lave gone astray;
An' 'ow the stern ole father still was sore,
But looked like 'e'd be soft'nin', day by day;
'Ow pride in Jim peeps out be'ind 'is frown,
An' 'ow the ole fool 'opes to 'ide it down.

"I knoo," she sez. "I never doubted Jim.
But wot could any mother say or do
When pryin' folks asked wot become uv 'im,
But drop 'er eyes an' say she never knoo.
Now I can lift me 'ead to that sly glance,
An' say, 'Jim's fightin', with the rest, in France.'"

An' when she's gone, us four we don't require
No gossipin' to keep us in imploy.
Ole Poole sits starin' 'ard into the fire.
I guessed that 'e was thinkin' uv 'is boy,
'Oo's been right in it from the very start;
An' Poole was thinkin' uv a father's part.

An' then 'e speaks: "This war 'as turned us 'ard.
Suppose, four year ago, yeh said to me
That I'd sit 'eedless, starin' at a card
While that ole mother told--Good Lord!" sez 'e
"It takes the women for to put us wise
To playin' games in war-time," an' 'e sighs.

An' 'ere Doren sets out to put 'im right.
"There's games an' games," she sez. "When women starts
A hand at Bridge like she 'as played to-night