"She laughs, an' she says, 'You be done courtin' then, George, I can see. You ain't got no thought of a second wife, seemin'ly.' ''Ow d' you know that?' I asks; an' she laughs again an' says she knows, 'cos if 'twasn't so I'd like the thought of a bit o' lawn to sit out on warm evenings an' such. An' then she says, 'You think too much o' y'r stomach, George'--which fair rattled me." "What you say?" "I says again, 'They lawns be the ruin o' England, I tell ye'--an' then I see 'er start an' go red 's a poppy, an' then she sort o' plunges in at 'er door. An' then I looks round for first time an' I sees Squire standin' there, 'earin' all as 'ad been said, an' for the moment I'd 'ave been glad 'nough for a back-door too--so I would." "Lord-a-mercy, George, you're a rare-un for puttin' y'r foot in it wi' gentry! What to gracious did 'e make o' it?" "'E sort o' smiled--but crooked like. An' then 'e says, 'No but what you're right, George'--which were 'bout 'undred miles from what I 'spected 'im to say. 'Look 'ere,' 'e goes on, 'I'll make a bargain wi' ye. You send me up 'alf-a-bushel o' seed potatoes,' 'e says, 'to start on, an' I'll send you a young sow out o' the last litter. What d' you say?'" "What did ye say?" "I says, 'Thank ye kindly, Sir. An' if I've done my bit to save England from ruin I be fine an' glad.' And so I be." * * * * * More Tampering with the Calendar. "Among the objections to flag days is that they have detracted from the novelty of Alexandra Rose Day, which this year is being held on June 31."--_Daily Paper._ This attempt to shove Alexandra Day right off the calendar, has, we are glad to say, been unsuccessful; and to-day, June 21st, sees roses, roses all the way as usual. * * * * * From a concert programme:-- "BALLET. (for which Miss Gladys Groom has won the Challenge Cub in connection with Lady Rachel Byng's Olympic Game Tests) SONG. 'Show us how to do the Fox Trot' (Miss Ruby Groom and chorus)." It seems to us that Miss GLADYS'S reward would have been more appropriate to Miss RUBY. * * * * * [Illustration: GIVEN AWAY. _Boy._ "MOTHER, WE OUGHTN'T TO BE IN THIS CARRIAGE, OUGHT WE? IT'S FIRST-CLASS." _Mother._ "OH, DARLING, YOU MEAN WE OUGHT TO BE ECONOMISING IN WAR-TIME?" _Boy._ "BUT, MOTHER, WE _ARE_ ECONOMISING, AREN'T WE? WE'VE ONLY GOT THIRD-CLASS TICKETS."] * * * * * OUR BOOKING-OFFICE. (_By Mr. Punch's Staff of Learned Clerks._)