“Well, I don’t know about that, miss.  You see——­”

“Captain,” I put in.  Because he might as well know that we meant business.

“Captain, of course!” he said.  “You’ll have to excuze me.  This thing of Women in War is new to me.  But now don’t you think that you’ll be doing the country a service not to interfere with the food supply and so on?” He then looked at me and remarked:  “If I was you, miss or Captain, I would not come any to clost to my place.  My wife was pretty well bruized up that time you upset our milk waggon.”

It was indeed he!  But he was not unpleasant about it, although remarking that if he had a daughter and a machine, although he had niether, and expected niether, the one would never be allowed to have the other until carefully taught on an emty road.

He then said: 

“You girls have been wig-wagging, I see.”

“We are studying flag signals.”

“Humph!” he observed.  “I used to know something about that myself, in the Spanish war.  Now let’s see what I remember.  Watch this.  And somebody keep an eye on that hill and report if a blue calico dress is charging from the enemies’ Trenches.”

It was very strange to see one who apeared to be but an ordinary Farmer, Or Milkman, pick up our flags and wave them faster than we could read them.  It was indeed thrilling, although discouraging, because if that was the regular rate of Speed we felt that we could never acheive it.  I remarked this, and he then said: 

“Work hard at it, and I reckon I can slip over now and then and give you a lesson.  Any girl that can drive an automobile hell-bent” (these are his words, not mine) “can do most anything she sets her mind on.  You leave that gun alone, and work at the signaling, and I guess I can make out to come every afternoon.  I start out about 2 A. M. and by noon I’m mostly back.”

We all thanked him, and saluted as he left.  He saluted to, and said: 

“Name’s Schmidt, but don’t worry about that.  Got some German blood way back, but who hasn’t?”

He then departed with his to dogs, and we held a meeting, and voted to give up everything but signaling.

Passed unanamously.

8 P. M. I am now at home.  Dinner is over, being early on Sundays because of Servants’ days out and so on.

Leila had a Doctor to dinner.  She met him at the Red Cross, and he would, I think, be a good husband.  He sat beside me, and I talked mostly about her, as I wished him to know that, although having her faults as all have, she would be a good wife.

“She can sow very well,” I told him, “and she would probably like to keep House, but of course has no chance here, as mother thinks no one can manage but herself.”

“Indeed!” he said, looking at me.  “But of course she will probably have a house of her own before long.”

“Very likely,” I said.  “Although she has had a number of chances and always refuses.”