William brought up my tray this morning.  I gave him a peircing glance and said: 

“Is the Emblem out?”

He avoided my eye.

“Not yet, miss,” he said.  “Your father left sharp orders as to being disturbed before 8 A. M.”

“As it is now 9:30,” I observed coldly, “there has been time enough lost.  I am hors de combat, or I would have atended to it long ago.”

He had drawn a stand beside the bed, and I now sat up and looked at my Tray.  The orange was cut through the wrong way!

Had I needed proof, dear log or journal, I had it there.  For any butler knows how to cut a breakfast orange.

“William,” I said, as he was going out, “how long have you been a Butler?”

Perhaps this was a foolish remark as being calculated to put him on his guard.  But “out of the fullness of the Heart the Mouth speaketh.”  It was said.  I could not withdraw my words.

He turned suddenly and looked at me.

“Me, miss?” he said in a far to inocent tone.  “Why, I don’t know exactly.”  He then smiled and said:  “There are some who think I am not much of a Butler now.”

“Just a word of advise, William,” I said in a signifacant tone.  “A real Butler cuts an orange the other way.  I am telling you, because although having grape fruit mostly, some morning some one may order an orange, and one should be very careful these days.”

Shall I ever forget his face as he went out?  No, never.  He knew that I knew, and was one to stand no nonsense.  But I had put him on his guard.  It was to be a battle of Intellagence, his brains against mine.

Although regretful at first of having warned him, I feel now that it is as well.  I am one who likes to fight in the open, not as a serpent coiled in the grass and pretending, like the one in the Bible, to be a friend.

3 P. M. No new developments.  Although forbidden to go out nothing was said about the roof.  I have therfore been up on it exchanging Signals with Lucy Gray next door by means of flags.  As their roof slants and it is still raining, she sliped once and slid to the gutter.  She then sat there and screamed like a silly, although they got her back with a clothesline which the Policeman asked for.

But Mrs. Gray was very unpleasant from one of their windows and said I was a Murderer at heart.

Has the Average Parent no soul?

Noon, April 14 (In Camp).

This is a fine day, being warm and bright and all here but Elaine and Mademoiselle—­the latter not greatly missed, as although French and an Ally she thinks we should be knitting etcetera, and ordered the car to be driven away when ever we tried to load the gun.

A quorum being present, it was moved and seconded that we express wherever possable our disaproval in war time of

1.  Cigarettes

2.  Drinking