The signal job is quite interesting, really, and the Colonel gives me an absolutely free hand.

Jezebel and Co. are driven distracted by the horse-flies.  I took Jezebel into a stream to-day, but she started to sit down!  So the flies must just bite, I fear.  Large grey brutes.

Hunt made me laugh so last night.  I was looking round the horses with Edward.  They were waiting to be fed with their evening hay.  To my surprise and pleasure, Moonlight suddenly neighed.  “Evidently getting her appetite back,” I remarked.  “Oh yes, sir,” says Hunt; “several times I’ve caught her hollerin’ for her meals lately!” Isn’t that a lovely expression?

[Sidenote:  JEZEBEL IN ONE OF HER MOODS]

Hunt is such a good chap.  He thinks nothing of “abroad,” but a lot of the “’osses,” as he calls them.  I found him what seemed to me a very nice loft to sleep in when we got here.  But no:  “I’d rather sleep with my ’osses, sir, thank you.”  And he sleeps practically under their noses.  “You see, sir, the mare might get one of her moods on.”

He is getting very fond of Jezebel now, and whenever she errs, he attributes the error to one of her moods.

She tore her nosebag to pieces the other day; whether because she was hungry and it was empty, or because it amused her, or because she was being bitten by a fly, I don’t know.  No one seems to have seen her do it.  “One of her moods,” says Hunt; and that’s all there is to be said about the incident.

My dear, this country is most enchanting.  Far away from nasty noises, full of unexpected wooded valleys and willowy streams.

All the little shrines are, as usual, surrounded by half-clipped trees.

And the wild-flowers.  Clear pale blue succory is the most charming of all, and I am going to send you some plants as soon as they have ceased flowering.

August 6.

You can’t think how difficult it is to take any interest in military matters sometimes.  The inclination to let things slide.  The feeling that an order is not so terrifying as it once was; that after all, who will know or bother if one furtive subaltern creeps out one evening to sketch?

August 8.

Do you know, it’s unintelligent, but I do so enjoy being here away from the fevers of war.  War is getting tedious, and the summer is all too short.

Swallow is coming back.  Isn’t it splendid!  The General finds him too irritating and tiresome.  Jezebel will be glad, for she doesn’t like the ghost-horse Moonlight, and she never really disliked Swallow.  I can’t say she liked him, because she likes no one, dear lamb.  But she used to look on Swallow with rather less suspicion, somehow.  And Swallow has a habit of licking that she approves of.  I have often seen her snap at him even while he is licking her; but he always continues after a moment.  I think it soothes her when the flies are tiresome.