“We’ve heard out there as all you civvies wur on rations—and Mus’ Archie one day he got the platoon for a bit of _parlez-voo_ and toald us as how you wurn’t starved, as so many chaps had letters from their wives, saying as they cud git naun to eat.” “Not starved! That’s valiant. And wot does Mus’ Archie know about it? Seemingly you doan’t know wot war is out there wud all your tea and your butter and your meat. Reckon there’ll never be peace as long as soldiering’s the only job you can git fed at.” “Well, you’ve guv me an unaccountable good tea fur a starving family. And now I’ll be off and see Harry about the farm.” Worge was in the midst of its spring sowings, and Harry spent his long days in the fields whose harvest he would not see. The Volunteer field was in potash now, dug for potatoes, and there were six more acres of potatoes over by the Sunk. “They say as how a hunderd acres of potatoes ull feed four hunderd people fur a year,” he said to Tom—“and yit thur’s always summat unaccountable mean about a spud.” Tom laughed. “You’ve done valiant, Harry.” Now that his brother’s adventure had justified itself, he had abandoned a good deal of his croaking attitude. Besides, if things really were getting scarce at home ... he wouldn’t like to think of Thyrza and the baby.... “I’ve done my best,” said Harry moodily, “but it’s over now. Reckon I’ll be called up in two months’ time.” “Who’d have thought it!—you eighteen!—and the liddle skinny limb of wickedness you wur when I went away. I’d never have believed it, if you’d toald me that in two year you’d have maade more of Worge than I in five.” “Father wants me to appeal; but it ud never do, I reckon. You cudn’t git off, so I’m not lik to.” “And it wouldn’t be praaper, nuther,” said Tom, rather huffily. “You wud a brother in the Sussex! Farming’s all very well, Harry, but soldiering’s better. I didn’t think it myself at one time, but now I know different. A farm’s hemmed liddle use if Kayser Bill gits his perishing plaace in the sun. Besides, the praaper job fur a praaper Sussex chap is along of other Sussex chaps, fighting fur their farms. That’s whur I’d lik my old brother to be, and whur he’d like to be himself, I reckon.” “I shudn’t,” said Harry, “any more than you did at fust.”