Annie's mother undid the parcel and took out a large German helmet, but
it somehow failed to arouse much enthusiasm on the part of either mother
or daughter. Jim had already gone far towards converting his wife's
kitchen into an arsenal, and, as Annie said, "there was no end o' wark
sidin' things away an' fettlin' up t' place."

At the bottom of the helmet was an envelope addressed to "Mrs Annie
Akroyd, 7 Nineveh Lane, Leeds," and the mother handed it to her
daughter.

"I'm ower thrang to read it naa," said Annie; "it'll hae to wait while
I've finished weshin'."

"Eh! but tha'll want to know how thy Jim's gettin' on. Happen he'll be
havin' short leave sooin. I'll read it to thee misen."

She opened the envelope and began to read the letter. It ran as
follows:--

"Dear Annie,--I hope this finds you well, as it leaves me at present.
I'm sendin' thee a helmet that I took off a German that I com across i'
one o' them gert sump-hoils that t' Jack Johnsons maks i' t' grund. He
were a fearful big gobslotch, so I reckon t' helmet will do to wesh aar
Jimmy in. When he gets a bit owder, he can laik at sodgers wi' it.

"I've coom aat o' t' trenches an' am enjoyin' a rest-cure behind t'
lines; so don't thou worry thisen abaat me. I'm champion, an' I've nowt
to do but eyt an' sleep an' write a two-three letters when I've a mind
to; and what caps all is that I'm paid for doin' on it. There's a lass
here that said shoo'd write this here letter for me; but I'd noan have