FullReads

MRS. DOWEY.
‘My son is fighting in France.’

MRS. MICKLEHAM.
‘Mine is wounded in two places.’

THE HAGGERTY WOMAN.
‘Mine is at Salonaiky.’

The absurd pronunciation of this uneducated person moves the others to mirth.

MRS. DOWEY.
‘You’ll excuse us, Mrs. Haggerty, but the correct pronunciation is Salonikky.’

THE HAGGERTY WOMAN.
to cover her confusion. ‘I don’t think.’ She feels that even this does not prove her case. ‘And I speak as one that has War Savings Certificates.’

MRS. TWYMLEY.
‘We all have them.’

The Haggerty Woman whimpers, and the other guests regard her with unfeeling disdain.

MRS. DOWEY.
to restore cheerfulness, ‘Oh, it’s a terrible war.’

ALL.
brightening, ‘It is. You may say so.’

MRS. DOWEY.
encouraged, ‘What I say is, the men is splendid, but I’m none so easy about the staff. That’s your weak point, Mrs. Mickleham.’

MRS. MICKLEHAM.
on the defence, but determined to reveal nothing that might be of use to the enemy, ‘You may take it from me, the staff’s all right.’

MRS. DOWEY.
‘And very relieved I am to hear you say it.’

It is here that the Haggerty Woman has the remaining winkle.

MRS. MICKLEHAM.
‘You don’t understand properly about trench warfare. If I had a map—-‘

MRS. DOWEY.
wetting her finger to draw lines on the table. ‘That’s the river Sommy. Now, if we had barrages here—-‘

MRS. TWYMLEY.
‘Very soon you would be enfilided. Where’s your supports, my lady?’ Mrs. Dowey is damped.

MRS. MICKLEHAM.
‘What none of you grasps is that this is a artillery war—-‘

THE HAGGERTY WOMAN.
strengthened by the winkle, ‘I say that the word is Salonaiky.’

The others purse their lips.

MRS. TWYMLEY.
with terrible meaning, ‘We’ll change the subject. Have you seen this week’s Fashion Chat?‘ She has evidently seen and devoured it herself, and even licked up the crumbs. ‘The gabardine with accordion pleats has quite gone out.’

MRS. DOWEY.
her old face sparkling. ‘My sakes! You tell me?’

MRS. TWYMLEY.
with the touch of haughtiness that comes of great topics, ‘The plain smock has come in again, with silk lacing, giving that charming chic effect.’

MRS. DOWEY.
‘Oho!’

MRS. MICKLEHAM.
‘I must say I was always partial to the straight line’–thoughtfully regarding the want of line in Mrs. Twymley’s person–‘though trying to them as is of too friendly a figure.’

It is here that the Haggerty Woman’s fingers close unostentatiously upon a piece of sugar.

MRS. TWYMLEY.
sailing into the Empyrean, ‘Lady Dolly Kanister was seen conversing across the railings in a dainty de jou.’

MRS. DOWEY.
‘Fine would I have liked to see her.’

MRS. TWYMLEY.
‘She is equally popular as maid, wife, and munition-worker. Her two children is inset. Lady Pops Babington was married in a tight tulle.’

MRS. MICKLEHAM.
‘What was her going-away dress?’

MRS. TWYMLEY.
‘A champagny cream velvet with dreamy corsage. She’s married to Colonel the Hon. Chingford–“Snubs,” they called him at Eton.’

THE HAGGERTY WOMAN.
having disposed of the sugar, ‘Very likely he’ll be sent to Salonaiky.’

MRS. MICKLEHAM.
‘Wherever he is sent, she’ll have the same tremors as the rest of us. She’ll be as keen to get the letters wrote with pencils as you or me.’

MRS. TWYMLEY.
‘Them pencil letters!’

MRS. DOWEY.
in her sweet Scotch voice, timidly, afraid she may be going too far, ‘And women in enemy lands gets those pencil letters and then stop getting them, the same as ourselves. Let’s occasionally think of that.’