“Probably the right Person has not happened along;” he observed.

“Perhaps,” I said, in a signifacant tone.  “Or perhaps he does not know he is the right Person.”

William, of whom more anon, was passing the ice cream just then.  I refused it, saying: 

“Not in war time.”

“Barbara,” mother said, stiffly.  “Don’t be a silly.  Eat your desert.”

As I do not like seens I then took a little, but no cake.

During dinner Leila made an observation which has somewhat changed my opinion of Carter Brooks.  She said his mother did not want him to enlist which was why he had not.  She has no other sons and probably never will have, being a widow.

I have now come to William.

Lucy Gray had been on Secret Service that day, but did the observing from the windows of their house, as my Familey was at home and liable to poke into my room at any moment.

William had made it up with the cook, Lucy said, and had showed her a game of Solitaire in the morning by the kitchin window.  He had then fallen asleep in the pantrey, the window being up.  In the afternoon, luncheon being over and the Familey out in the car for a ride, he had gone out into the yard behind the house and pretended to look to see if the crocuses were all gone.  But soon he went into the Garage and was there a half hour.

Now it is one of the rules of this Familey that no house servants go to the Garage, owing to taking up the Chauffeur’s time when he should be oiling up, etcetera.  Also owing to one Butler stealing the Chauffeur’s fur coat and never being seen again.

But alas, what am I to do?  For although I reported this being in the Garage to mother, she but said: 

“Don’t worry me about him, Bab.  He is hopelessly inefficient.  But there are no Men Servants to be had and we’ll have to get along.”

1 A. M. I have been on watch all evening, but everything is quiet.

I must now go to bed, as the Manual says, page 166: 

“Retire early and get a good night’s rest.”

April 16th.  In camp.  Luncheon of sardines, pickels, and eclairs as no one likes to cook, owing to smoke in the eyes, etcetera.

Camp convened at 12 noon, as we spent the morning helping to get members of the Other Sex to enlist.  We pinned a pink Carnation on each Enlister, and had to send for more several times.  We had quite a Crowd there and it was very polite except one, who said he would enlist twice for one kiss.  The Officer however took him by the ear and said the Army did not wish such as he.  He then through (threw?) him out.

This morning I warned the new Chauffeur, feeling that if he had by chance any Milatary Secrets in the Garage he should know about William.

“William!” he said, looking up from where he was in the Repair Pit at the time.  “William!”

“I am sorry, Henry,” I said, in a quiet voice.  “But I fear that William is not what he apears to be.”