"
"They are wearing the Germans out and so long as that happens it does
not matter whether it is done a few miles east or a few miles west. I am
not," admitted Susan in tremendous humility, "I am not a military
expert, Sophia Crawford, but even I can see that, and so could you if
you were not determined to take a gloomy view of everything. The Huns
have not got all the cleverness in the world. Have you not heard the
story of Alistair MacCallum's son Roderick, from the Upper Glen? He is a
prisoner in Germany and his mother got a letter from him last week. He
wrote that he was being very kindly treated and that all the prisoners
had plenty of food and so on, till you would have supposed everything
was lovely. But when he signed his name, right in between Roderick and
MacCallum, he wrote two Gaelic words that meant 'all lies' and the
German censor did not understand Gaelic and thought it was all part of
Roddy's name. So he let it pass, never dreaming how he was diddled.
Well, I am going to leave the war to Haig for the rest of the day and
make a frosting for my chocolate cake. And when it is made I shall put
it on the top shelf. The last one I made I left it on the lower shelf
and little Kitchener sneaked in and clawed all the icing off and ate it.
We had company for tea that night and when I went to get my cake what a
sight did I behold!"
"Has that pore orphan's father never been heerd from yet?" asked Cousin
Sophia.
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