Echoes of the War | Page 3

here. But she continues rather shabbily,
'Being the only lady present that has that proud misfortune.' The others
are stung.
MRS. DOWEY. 'My son is fighting in France.'
MRS. MICKLEHAM. 'Mine is wounded in two places.'
THE HAGGERTY WOMAN. 'Mine is at Salonaiky.'
The absurd pronunciation of this uneducated person moves the others
to mirth.
MRS. DOWEY. 'You'll excuse us, Mrs. Haggerty, but the correct
pronunciation is Salonikky.'

THE HAGGERTY WOMAN, to cover her confusion. 'I don't think.'
She feels that even this does not prove her case. 'And I speak as one
that has War Savings Certificates.'
MRS. TWYMLEY. 'We all have them.'
The Haggerty Woman whimpers, and the other guests regard her with
unfeeling disdain.
MRS. DOWEY, to restore cheerfulness, 'Oh, it's a terrible war.'
ALL, brightening, 'It is. You may say so.'
MRS. DOWEY, encouraged, 'What I say is, the men is splendid, but
I'm none so easy about the staff. That's your weak point, Mrs.
Mickleham.'
MRS. MICKLEHAM, on the defence, but determined to reveal nothing
that might be of use to the enemy, 'You may take it from me, the staff's
all right.'
MRS. DOWEY. 'And very relieved I am to hear you say it.'
It is here that the Haggerty Woman has the remaining winkle.
MRS. MICKLEHAM. 'You don't understand properly about trench
warfare. If I had a map----'
MRS. DOWEY, wetting her finger to draw lines on the table. 'That's
the river Sommy. Now, if we had barrages here----'
MRS. TWYMLEY. 'Very soon you would be enfilided. Where's your
supports, my lady?' Mrs. Dowey is damped.
MRS. MICKLEHAM. 'What none of you grasps is that this is a
artillery war----'
THE HAGGERTY WOMAN, strengthened by the winkle, 'I say that
the word is Salonaiky.'
The others purse their lips.
MRS. TWYMLEY, with terrible meaning, 'We'll change the subject.
Have you seen this week's Fashion Chat?' She has evidently
seen and devoured it herself, and even licked up the crumbs. 'The
gabardine with accordion pleats has quite gone out.'
MRS. DOWEY, her old face sparkling. 'My sakes! You tell me?'
MRS. TWYMLEY, with the touch of haughtiness that comes of great
topics, 'The plain smock has come in again, with silk lacing, giving that
charming chic effect.'
MRS. DOWEY. 'Oho!'
MRS. MICKLEHAM. 'I must say I was always partial to the straight

line'--thoughtfully regarding the want of line in Mrs. Twymley's
person--'though trying to them as is of too friendly a figure.'
It is here that the Haggerty Woman's fingers close unostentatiously
upon a piece of sugar.
MRS. TWYMLEY, sailing into the Empyrean, 'Lady Dolly Kanister
was seen conversing across the railings in a dainty de jou.'
MRS. DOWEY. 'Fine would I have liked to see her.'
MRS. TWYMLEY. 'She is equally popular as maid, wife, and
munition-worker. Her two children is inset. Lady Pops Babington was
married in a tight tulle.'
MRS. MICKLEHAM. 'What was her going-away dress?'
MRS. TWYMLEY. 'A champagny cream velvet with dreamy corsage.
She's married to Colonel the Hon. Chingford--"Snubs," they called him
at Eton.'
THE HAGGERTY WOMAN, having disposed of the sugar, 'Very
likely he'll be sent to Salonaiky.'
MRS. MICKLEHAM. 'Wherever he is sent, she'll have the same
tremors as the rest of us. She'll be as keen to get the letters wrote with
pencils as you or me.'
MRS. TWYMLEY. 'Them pencil letters!'
MRS. DOWEY, in her sweet Scotch voice, timidly, afraid she may be
going too far, 'And women in enemy lands gets those pencil letters and
then stop getting them, the same as ourselves. Let's occasionally think
of that.'
She has gone too far. Chairs are pushed back.
THE HAGGERTY WOMAN. 'I ask you!'
MRS. MICKLEHAM. 'That's hardly language, Mrs. Dowey.'
MRS. DOWEY, scared, 'Kindly excuse. I swear to death I'm none of
your pacifists.'
MRS. MICKLEHAM. 'Freely granted.'
MRS. TWYMLEY. 'I've heard of females that have no male relations,
and so they have no man-party at the wars. I've heard of them, but I
don't mix with them.'
MRS. MICKLEHAM. 'What can the likes of us have to say to them?
It's not their war.'
MRS. DOWEY, wistfully, 'They are to be pitied.'
MRS. MICKLEHAM. 'But the place for them, Mrs. Dowey, is within

doors with the blinds down.'
MRS. DOWEY, hurriedly, 'That's the place for them.'
MRS. MICKLEHAM. 'I saw one of them to-day buying a flag. I
thought it was very impudent of her.'
MRS. DOWEY, meekly, 'So it was.'
MRS. MICKLEHAM, trying to look modest with indifferent success, 'I
had a letter from my son, Percy, yesterday.'
MRS. TWYMLEY. 'Alfred sent me his photo.'
THE HAGGERTY WOMAN. 'Letters from Salonaiky is less common.'
Three bosoms heave, but not, alas, Mrs. Dowey's. Nevertheless she
doggedly knits her lips.
MRS. DOWEY, the criminal, 'Kenneth writes to me every week.' There
are exclamations. The dauntless old