_Mother_. "YES, DEAR." _Basil_. "WELL, I FEEL AS IF I DIDN'T WANT TO GO AND WASH MY FACE."] * * * * * SAUCE FOR THE GOOSE. ["The plain truth is that there are very few jobs that could not be done by women as well as they are being done by men."--_Daily Paper_.] Chloe, in the placid days Ere the war-clouds gathered, I was prodigal in praise Of your charm and winning ways; You became a cult, a craze (Heavens, how I blathered!); With an ardour undismayed and treacly I proposed (without success) bi-weekly. Now, my dear, it's up to you To become the hero; Show us how a man should woo When he wills to win, and do Teach us how to bill and coo With our hopes at zero. Chloe, for a change (it may amuse you), _You_ propose to me--_and I'll refuse you_. * * * * * From an auction catalogue:-- "PRINCESS, Brown Mare, 7 years, 15-3, has been ridden by a nervous person, good manners, trained to the High School, Hant-le-Cole." _Haute Êcole_ manners are usually of the best and we are glad that Hant-le-Cole, which we have been unable to find on the map, provides no exception. * * * * * [Illustration: A MISFIT. _Recruit_. "IT'S NO USE, GUV'NOR. I 'ATES AN' DETESTS 'ORSES, AN' THEY FAIR LOATHES ME. IT'S A HENGINE-DRIVER I AM--NOT AN 'ORSE-DRIVER."] * * * * * THE INVESTITURE. Be silent, guns! for Bernard is invested, And wheresoe'er the slaves of strife are found Let your grim offices be now arrested, Nor the hot rifle shoot another round, Nor the pale flarelights toss, But for a space all devilry be barred, While Mars hangs motionless in pleased regard And the hushed lines look West to Palace Yard, Where on his breast our KING has pinned the Cross. Oft in the Mess have we rehearsed that moment, In old French farms have staged the Royal Square, Or in cool caves by Germans made at Beaumont, Though there indeed we had no space to spare, So lifelike was it all, And when KING GEORGE (the Padre's hard to beat In that great _rôle_), surrounded by his suite, Pinned on the cover of the potted meat, The very Hippodrome had seemed too small. Or we would act the homing of our Hector, Flushed up with pride beneath the ancestral fir, The cheering rustics and the sweet old Rector Welcoming back "our brave parishioner;" And since the lad was shy We made him get some simple phrases pat To thank them for the Presentation Bat, While Maud stood near (the Adjutant did that), So overcome that she could only sigh.