MRS. MICKLEHAM. 'Wherever he is sent, she'll have the same tremors as the rest of us. She'll be as keen to get the letters wrote with pencils as you or me.' MRS. TWYMLEY. 'Them pencil letters!' MRS. DOWEY, in her sweet Scotch voice, timidly, afraid she may be going too far, 'And women in enemy lands gets those pencil letters and then stop getting them, the same as ourselves. Let's occasionally think of that.' She has gone too far. Chairs are pushed back. THE HAGGERTY WOMAN. 'I ask you!' MRS. MICKLEHAM. 'That's hardly language, Mrs. Dowey.' MRS. DOWEY, scared, 'Kindly excuse. I swear to death I'm none of your pacifists.' MRS. MICKLEHAM. 'Freely granted.' MRS. TWYMLEY. 'I've heard of females that have no male relations, and so they have no man-party at the wars. I've heard of them, but I don't mix with them.' MRS. MICKLEHAM. 'What can the likes of us have to say to them? It's not their war.' MRS. DOWEY, wistfully, 'They are to be pitied.' MRS. MICKLEHAM. 'But the place for them, Mrs. Dowey, is within doors with the blinds down.' MRS. DOWEY, hurriedly, 'That's the place for them.' MRS. MICKLEHAM. 'I saw one of them to-day buying a flag. I thought it was very impudent of her.' MRS. DOWEY, meekly, 'So it was.' MRS. MICKLEHAM, trying to look modest with indifferent success, 'I had a letter from my son, Percy, yesterday.' MRS. TWYMLEY. 'Alfred sent me his photo.' THE HAGGERTY WOMAN. 'Letters from Salonaiky is less common.' Three bosoms heave, but not, alas, Mrs. Dowey's. Nevertheless she doggedly knits her lips. MRS. DOWEY, the criminal, 'Kenneth writes to me every week.' There are exclamations. The dauntless old thing holds aloft a packet of letters. 'Look at this. All his.' The Haggerty Woman whimpers. MRS. TWYMLEY. 'Alfred has little time for writing, being a bombardier.' MRS. DOWEY, relentlessly, 'Do your letters begin "Dear mother"?' MRS. TWYMLEY. 'Generally.' MRS. MICKLEHAM. 'Invariable.' THE HAGGERTY WOMAN. 'Every time.' MRS. DOWEY, delivering the knock-out blow, 'Kenneth's begin "Dearest mother.'" No one can think of the right reply. MRS. TWYMLEY, doing her best, 'A short man, I should say, judging by yourself.' She ought to have left it alone. MRS. DOWEY. 'Six feet two-and a half.' The gloom deepens. MRS. MICKLEHAM, against her better judgment, 'A kilty, did you tell me?' MRS. DOWEY. 'Most certainly. He's in the famous Black Watch.' THE HAGGERTY WOMAN, producing her handkerchief, 'The Surrey Rifles is the famousest.' MRS. MICKLEHAM. 'There you and the King disagrees, Mrs. Haggerty. His choice is the Buffs, same as my Percy's.' MRS. TWYMLEY, magnanimously, 'Give me the R.H.A. and you can keep all the rest.' MRS. DOWEY. 'I'm sure I have nothing to say against the Surreys and the R.H.A. and the Buffs; but they are just breeches regiments, I understand.' THE HAGGERTY WOMAN. 'We can't all be kilties.' MRS. DOWEY, crushingly, 'That's very true.'