“It’s in The Times,” I said, “and you shall read it, whether you like it or not.  It’s in the place where I’m pointing my finger.  There—­do you see it?”

“If you’d only take your finger away I might be able to.  Thanks.  My hat! isn’t it exciting?  ’To be 2nd Lieutenant (tempy.) 1st Battalion, Blankshire Regiment of Volunteers—­’ So it’s come at last, has it?”

“Yes,” I said, “it’s come at last.  They’ve recognised us.”

“Well,” she said, “it was about time, wasn’t it?  Here you’ve all been form-fouring and two deeping and route-marching for two years or so, and looking highly military in your grey-green uniforms, while the authorities stood by and persuaded themselves you didn’t exist; and at last somebody comes along—­”

“It was Lord FRENCH who came along—­”

“Yes,” she said, “Lord FRENCH comes along on a fine cold Sunday morning and says to himself, ’Here are several hundred thousand men who are panting to make themselves useful.  Let’s recognise them,” and from that moment you actually begin to exist.  And then they bring down your grey hairs with sorrow into the Gazette, and, instead of being a Platoon Commander, you become a 2nd Lieutenant.”

“‘Tempy,’” I said; “don’t forget the ‘tempy.’”

“I won’t,” she said.  “What does it mean?  It sounds very irritable.”

“It does,” I said; “but as a matter of fact it’s got nothing to do with my temper.  It means temporary.”

“Anyhow it’s a difficult word to pronounce in four syllables.  I shall do it in two.”

“No, Francesca, you shall not.  As the holder of His Majesty’s Commission I cannot allow you to go about the country saying tempy when you mean tem-po-ra-ry.”

“But why do they put in the word at all?”

“It’s the War Office way of announcing that we’re not to expect our new-born joys to last for ever.”

“To the end of the War is long enough for most people at the present rate.”

“Do not let us peer too anxiously into the dim and distant future.  Let us be satisfied with such a present as fate has assigned to us in making me a 2nd Lieutenant temporary, with all the privileges that the words imply.”

“Right,” she said.  “I’m going to wire to your brother Fred to come and stay here.”

“Do you want him to come and rejoice with us over my new rank?”

“No,” she said, “not exactly.  I want to see how an elder brother, who is a 2nd Lieutenant temporary of Volunteers gets on with a younger brother who is a Colonel permanent in the real Army.”

“I do not,” I said, “like the word ‘real’ There’s a disagreeable invidiousness about it, and your mouth, you being what you are, should be the last to use it.”

’You’ll have to salute him, you know.”

“Yes,” I said, “I certainly shall when I’m in uniform.”

“And you’ll have to call him ‘Sir.’”

“Nonsense.”