Page:Punch Vol 148.djvu/133

In order that no possible means of injuring England may be neglected, it is understood that the German professors of necromancy and witchcraft have been requested to make the best use of their magical powers.

I had often seen the little lady at No. 4, but it is only lately that I have discovered that there is in her the makings of a General.

We found out about her strategic dispositions in a roundabout way. Her maid told the milkman, and in the course of nature the news came to us. Every night her maid carries into her room & fur coat, a large pair of boots and a coal-scuttle.

It is, of course, her preparation to meet a Zeppelin attack.

Everybody is getting ready. Bulpitt's wife's mother, for example—Bulpitt is my next-door neighbour—is making him dig a bomb-proof hole in the garden. Bulpitt thought there might be some difficulty about getting her into it. I pointed out that there would be more difficulty in getting her out—the hole is very deep. He said he didn't worry about that.

Two nights later we had a scare. Every light went out along the road and people were doing all kinds of safe things. It turned out afterwards that Stewart was testing his family Zeppelin drill, and fired three shots to make it realistic. His wife then put the baby in the copper with the lid one inch open. She herself stood beside a certain wall which, according to Stewart, could not be knocked down because of the stresses and strains that would be set up.

That was all very well for him; the only thing that went wrong was that a little water had been left in the copper. But what about poor Johnson, who had to pile all the mattresses in the coal-cellar? He was awfully black and angry when he found out.

And what about Carruthers, who emptied a fire-pail on the drawing-room fire, and had to explain a long muddy pool to his wife, who is rather deaf and hadn't heard the shots?

As for Bulpitt's wife's mother, she was in the pit for over an hour before we hauled her out. The first time we got her to the surface she gasped out, quite smilingly, "Now I know what it's like in the tren———" and then she slipped back with an oozy thud. The second time she said, "I don't think they'll come ag———" The third time she said, "I don't care if the Zeppel———" And when we did get her out she said nothing at all, and I was sorry for Bulpitt.

Amidst all these scenes of confusion little Miss Agatha at No. 4 stood at attention in a fur overcoat and a big pair of boots that would easily slip on, with a coal-scuttle on her head to keep off bombs. She stood there warm, safe, and respectably clad, waiting till the house crashed about her and the time came to save herself.

I hate to think of the Zeppelins coming; but if they do come I hope—how I hope!—I shall be near No. 4 to see the indomitable little lady emerge.

"When a court-martial was opened for the trial of two sergeants at Woolwich yesterday one of the officers questioned the right of a reporter to be present... The reporter was told to leave, which he did, after protesting that an official shorthand note was an entirely different thing from a newspaper report."—Daily Chronicle.