After that the outgoing Battalion files slowly out, and the newcomers are left gloomily contemplating their new abiding-place, and observing-- "I wonder if there is _any_ Division in the whole blessed Expeditionary Force, besides ours, which ever does a single damn thing to keep its trenches in repair!" II All of which brings us back to Hush Hall, where the Headquarters of the outgoing Brigade are handing over to their successors. Hush Hall, or the Château de Quelquechose, is a modern country house, and once stood up white and gleaming in all its brave finery of stucco, conservatories, and ornamental lake, amid a pleasant wood not far from a main road. It is such a house as you might find round about Guildford or Hindhead. There are many in this fair countryside, but few are inhabited now, and none by their rightful owners. They are all marked on the map, and the Boche gunners are assiduous map-readers. Hush Hall has got off comparatively lightly. It is still habitable, and well furnished. The roof is demolished upon the side most exposed to the enemy, and many of the trees in the surrounding wood are broken and splintered by shrapnel. Still, provided the weather remains passable, one can live there. Upon the danger-side the windows are closed and shuttered. Weeds grow apace in the garden. No smoke emerges from the chimneys. (If it does, the Mess Corporal hears about it from the Staff Captain.) A few strands of barbed wire obstruct the passage of those careless or adventurous persons who may desire to explore the forbidden side of the house. The front door is bolted and barred: visitors, after approaching stealthily along the lee of a hedge, like travellers of dubious _bona fides_ on a Sunday afternoon, enter unobtrusively by the back door, which is situated on the blind side of the château. Their path thereto is beset by imploring notices like the following:-- THE SLIGHTEST MOVEMENT DRAWS SHELL FIRE. KEEP CLOSE TO THE HEDGE A later hand has added the following moving postscript:-- WE LIVE HERE. YOU DON'T! It was the Staff Captain who was responsible for the rechristening of the establishment. "What sort of place is this new palace we are going to doss in?" inquired the Machine-Gun Officer, when the Staff Captain returned from his preliminary visit. The Staff Captain, who was a man of a few words, replied-- "It's the sort of shanty where everybody goes about in felt slippers, saying 'Hush!'" * * * * *