Their silence on the subject of Dalmatia is being much
commented on.
***
A report reaches us that Jazz is about to be made a notifiable
disease.
* * * * *
A SPRING IDYLL.
If wound stripes were given to soldiers on becoming casualties to
Cupid's archery barrage, Ronnie Morgan's sleeve would be stiff with
gilt embroidery. The spring offensive claimed him as an early victim.
When be became an extensive purchaser of drab segments of fossilized
soap, bottles of sticky brilliantine with a chemical odour, and
postcards worked with polychromatic silk, the billet began to make
inquiries.
"It's that little mam'zelle at the shop in the Rue de la Republique,"
reported Jim Brown. "He spends all his pay and as much as he can
borrow of mine to get excuses for speaking to her."
There was a period of regular visits and intense literary activity on
the part of Ronnie, followed by the sudden disappearance of Mam'zelle
and an endeavour by the disconsolate swain to liquidate his debts in
kind.
"I owe you seven francs, Jim," said he. "If you give me another
three francs and I give you two bottles of brilliantine and a cake of
vanilla-flavoured soap we'll be straight."
"Not me!" said Jim firmly. "I've no wish to be a scented fly-paper.
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