"I thought your anti-German conscience would not permit you to open Johann until after the war's over," she called back. "My anti-German conscience has been severely wounded," I replied. "It hasn't sufficient strength to hold out much longer. In a few seconds it will surrender unconditionally." "Be brave," urged Joan. "Just think how proud you will be in days to come when you look back to this evening and realise how, in the face of the most terrible temptations, you triumphed!" "That's all very fine," I remarked, "but to-night I feel I need Johann medicinally. If I don't have him, there may be _no_ days to come. Do be reasonable. Do you suppose that if the KAISER, for instance, were bitten by a mad dog--a real one, I mean--that his anti-Ally conscience would forbid his adoption of the Pasteur treatment?" "Then if you really feel the need of a special refresher," said Joan, "at least let me send Phoebe out for a bottle of some friendly or neutral substitute." A vivid recollection of Phoebe's being despatched once before in an emergency for mustard and returning with custard flashed through my mind. "She's much too unreliable," I cried. "She'd get bay rum, or something equally futile. It must be Johann or nothing." "Then," said Joan, "let us say nothing"--an ambiguity of which I determined to take full advantage. Johann, I must now explain, was the sole survivor of six small bottles of the genuine Rhine brand which Joan's uncle (who is in the trade) had given her last Christmas. Number Five had been opened on the evening of August Bank Holiday after a strenuous day on the tennis courts. Later, when hostilities had started all round I had taken a terrible oath that nothing of German or Austrian origin should be used in our household until Peace broke out. This necessitated the sacrifice of at least four inches of breakfast sausage and the better part of a box of Carlsbad plums. Johann, being intact, was merely interned. But at that time I had not anticipated that some three months later I should be exhausted by long and tiring drills and manoeuvres. However, on this night my body cried aloud for Johann's refreshing contents. I did not care two pins that he had been manufactured on the banks of the Rhine, or that he was the product of alien and hostile hands. After all, it wasn't Johann's fault; and besides, surely he had been long enough in England to become naturalised. At any rate it was both prejudiced and illogical to assume that Johann was my enemy solely because he happened to be born in Germany. The bath took some time to fill. The taps, I think, wanted sweeping. But during the time that elapsed I made up my mind. Johann should be opened. I slipped on my dressing-gown and went in search of him. When I had secured him I met Joan on the landing; she was just going down to dinner. "Haven't you had your bath yet?" she asked. "Hurry up and--oh! you've got Johann!"