. A green tent in Flanders. ests, through me,whom he could not well refuse so small afavour without discourtesy? The wholestrain between Church and State, in minia- 130 A GREEN TENT IN FLANDERS ture, loomed maybe behind our little Baron—did lie know his actor best andwith fine French flair score a victory, yetturn away wrath by so discreet a use of hisprivilege? How deep is the art of naviga-tion! We distribute coloured bags of sweets,knapsack needle-cases, and photo framesin the wards. The baker of the villagesends us up big trays of cakes, as a NewYears offering to the men; the toba
. A green tent in Flanders. ests, through me,whom he could not well refuse so small afavour without discourtesy? The wholestrain between Church and State, in minia- 130 A GREEN TENT IN FLANDERS ture, loomed maybe behind our little Baron—did lie know his actor best andwith fine French flair score a victory, yetturn away wrath by so discreet a use of hisprivilege? How deep is the art of naviga-tion! We distribute coloured bags of sweets,knapsack needle-cases, and photo framesin the wards. The baker of the villagesends us up big trays of cakes, as a NewYears offering to the men; the tobacconistsends cigarettes and packets of pipe tobaccoall round. The unquenchable, witty light-heartedness of the French soldier rises tothe occasion. No excuse for a f^te can bedisregarded; so again we make merry. An aviator friend of Mademoiselle Basinetakes a snap at us as he flies over the hos-pital. It is curiously decorative and suggeststhe artistic arrangements of a flyingworld in the New Years ahead. THE QUILL DRIVER. January 8. A GREAT character ofSalle II wasigP6^^^PireJ We called himso, partly out of affec-tion, partly becausehe was small and over forty and wore, drawntightly over his head, a comic, crocheted,pink, pointed night-cap, with a tassel on thetop; but chiefly, I think, because he had ayoung daughter of fourteen round whom histhoughts, when they did not dwell on hisnext meal, continually played. Seeing this rather pitiful little man in thelast bed on his side of the ward, I went upto him and asked him if there was anythingI could do for him. Why, yes, madame, he answered in avoice that had in it an ancient note ofcomplaint but was relatively to the mo- 131 132 A GREEN TENT IN FLANDERS ment cheerful to the point of heroism, ifyou would get me a little comb I should bevery grateful. A little comb? Why, what would youdo with it, mon vieux .^ He was lying there waiting to have a legamputated and the request struck me asirrelevant. Why, I would comb my moustache
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Keywords: ., boo, bookcentury1900, bookdecade1910, booksubjectworldwar19141918
