"My dear Francesca," I said, "how charming you are to count me as a child! I shall really begin to feel as if there were golden threads among the silver." "Tut-tut," she said, "you're not so grey as all that." "Yes, I am," I said, "quite as grey as all that and much greyer; only we don't talk about it." "But we _do_ talk about sunflowers," she said, "don't we?" "If you'll promise to have the beastly glaring things dug up--" "Not," she said, "before we've extracted from them their last pip of chicken-food." "Well, anyhow," I said, "as soon as possible. If you'll promise to do that I'll promise never to mention them again." "But you'll lose your reputation with the Generals and Colonels." "I don't mind that," I said, "if I can only rid the garden of their detested presence." "My golden-threaded boy," said Francesca, "it shall be as you desire." R.C.L. * * * * * CONSTABLE JINKS. Our village policeman is tall and well-grown, He stands six feet two and he weighs sixteen stone; His gait is majestic, his visage serene, And his boots are the biggest that ever I've seen. Fame sealed his renown with a definite stamp When two German waiters escaped from a camp. Unaided he captured those runaway Huns Who had lived for a week on three half-penny buns. When a derelict porpoise was cast on the shore Our village policeman was much to the fore; He measured the beast from its tip to its tail, And blandly pronounced it "an undersized whale." When a small boy was flying his kite on the links It was promptly impounded by Constable Jinks, Who astutely remarked that it might have been seen By the vigilant crew of a Hun submarine. It is sometimes alleged that great valour he showed When he chased a mad cow for three miles on the road; But there's also another account of the hunt With a four-legged pursuer, a biped in front. If your house has been robbed and his counsel you seek He's sure to look in--in the course of the week, When his massive appearance will comfort your cook, Though he fails in the bringing of culprits to book. His _obiter dicta_ on life and the law Set our ribald young folk in a frequent guffaw; But the elders repose an implicit belief In so splendid a product of beer and of beef. He's the strongest and solidest man in the place, Nothing--short of mad cattle--can quicken his pace; His moustache would do credit to any dragoon, And his voice is as deep as a double bassoon. His complexion is perfect, his uniform neat, He rivets all eyes as he stalks down the street; And I doubt if his critics will ever complain Of his being a little deficient in brain. For he's more than a man; he's a part of the map; His going would cause a deplorable gap; And the village would suffer as heavy a slump As it would from the loss of the old parish pump. * * * * * A HAPPY JUXTAPOSITION.