Having sampled the cuisine of the local hotel at breakfast, Blythe promptly consented. The old gentleman excused himself in order to inform his wife that there would be a guest for the midday meal and also to get some important papers bearing on the subject which were stored away, he said, in a room upstairs. Going out, he left the parlor door ajar. Through the opening Blythe heard a voice, evidently one belonging to the mistress of the household. “Samantha,” the lady said, raising her tone in order that she might be heard by the cook in the kitchen, “my husband has invited a gentleman to stay for dinner. Take those two large potatoes back down cellar and bring up three small ones.” § 161 A Very Natural Request A certain captain of the regular army was on trial before a court-martial for alleged intoxication. His orderly, whose name was McSweeney, appeared as a witness for the defence. “What was the condition of the accused on the date in question?” asked the judge advocate. “He was sober, sor,” said McSweeney. “It has been reported,” stated the judge, “that he was in such a condition that you had to help him to his quarters and undress him and put him in bed.” “No, sor,” said Private McSweeney, “I just wint to quarters with the captain—that’s all, sor.” “Did he say anything that would lead you to think he was intoxicated?” “No, sor.” “Did he say anything at all?” “Well, he did say wan thing.” “What was that?” “Well, sor, just as I was leavin’ he sez to me, he sez, ‘McSweeney, if you’re wakin’ call me early. For I’m to be Queen of the May.’” § 162 The Voice of a Prophet A company of a division of colored troops were in heavy marching order awaiting the word to start for the front. It was to be their first actual contact with the enemy. One of the privates had somewhere picked up a copy of the Paris edition of the New York _Herald_. “Does dat air paper say anything about us boys?” inquired a sergeant. “It sho’ do,” answered the private, improvising. “It sez yere dat twenty-five thousand cullid troops is goin’ over de top to-night, suppo’ted by fifty thousand Frenchmen.” From down the line came a third voice, saying: “Well, I knows whut to-morrow’s number of dat paper’s gwine say. It’s gwine say, in big black letters, ‘Fifty thousand Frenchmen trompled to death by twenty-five thousand niggers.’” § 163 The Trifles of an Earlier Day In the great Meuse-Argonne advance two doughboys were squatted in a shell hole for shelter. In another minute or two they expected an order to go forward again against the German positions. The enemy was pouring everything he had in their direction. Machine-gun bullets were whining by just above their heads. High explosives and shrapnel shells were bursting about them. Hundreds of guns, big and little, roared and thundered. One of the soldiers turned his head toward his companion.