Illustration: _Village Worthy (discussing possibilities of invasion)._ "WULL, THERE CAN'T BE NO BATTLE IN THESE PARTS, JARGE, FOR THERE BAIN'T NO FIELD SUITABLE, AS YOU MAY SAY; AN' SQUIRE 'E WON'T LEND 'EM THE USE OF 'IS PARK." * * * * * "During 1912 we imported 2,290,206,240 foreign eggs. It is estimated that over 60% of these are no longer available."--_Advt._ Heaven preserve us from the other 40%. * * * * * THE LAST LINE. V. At last! We are "recognised" by the War Office! Our months of toil are not to go unrewarded. Two hours every evening at the end of an ordinary civilian day's work, all Saturday afternoon and the whole of Sunday, we have given these up cheerfully, supported by the hope of ultimate recognition. And now it is come! The terms of the War Office are generous. They are these. Provided that we buy our own rifles and equipment and continue to pay our own training expenses; provided that we use no military terms and make no attempt to wear any clothing which may look to the Germans at all like a soldier's uniform; provided that the War Office is at perfect liberty to employ upon those of us within the age limits a conscription for whole-time service which it has no intention of employing upon the more patriotic man who spends his week-ends playing golf; these provisions complied with, we--_are allowed to go on living!_ That startles you? I thought it would. You looked down upon us. Recognition, you told yourself, would only mean that we were immediately to be employed as waterproof sheeting for the new huts or concrete foundations for the new guns. Aha! Now you wish you had joined us. We are allowed to go on living! But I was forgetting. The War Office is being even more generous than that. In return for our not bothering them any more, it will allow us to wear (and pay for) a small red armlet with "G.R." on it; the red colour, I suppose, informing the Germans that we have just been vaccinated, and the "G.R." ("got rash") warning them that the left arm is irritable. James is annoyed about it. This is silly of him. As I point out, our soldiers have already earned a reputation abroad for gaiety and high spirits, and it is all to the good that the War Office should show that it has a sense of humour equally keen. When the invasion comes, and music-halls, cinemas and football matches are closed down, the amusement of the country (as the War Office has foreseen) will depend entirely upon _us_. Let us, then, obey rigidly the seven commandments of "recognition" and see how funny we can be. For instance:-- AT HEADQUARTERS. [_The Brigadier and the Adjutant--I beg pardon (don't shoot)--Father and Father's Help are discovered in conversation._] _Father (explaining orders)._ The Battalion will advance to-morrow towards Harwich, where the enemy----