“If ’e had nine lives,” interrupted Joe, with a certain suddenness, “’e’d save the lot.”

Mr. Lavender lowered the paper.

“I cannot bear cynicism, Joe; there is no quality so unbecoming to a gentleman.”

“Me and ’im don’t put in for that, sir.”

“Joe, Mr. Lavender would say you are, incorrigible....”

Our gentleman, in common with all worthy of the name, had a bank-book, which, in hopes that it would disclose an unsuspected balance, he would have “made up” every time he read an utterance exhorting people to invest and save their country.

One morning at the end of May, finding there was none, he called in his housekeeper and said: 

“Mrs. Petty, we are spending too much; we have again been exhorted to save.  Listen!  ’Every penny diverted from prosecution of the war is one more spent in the interests of the enemies of mankind.  No patriotic person, I am confident; will spend upon him or herself a stiver which could be devoted to the noble ends so near to all our hearts.  Let us make every spare copper into bullets to strengthen the sinews of war!’ A great speech.  What can we do without?”

“The newspapers, sir.”

“Don’t be foolish, Mrs. Petty.  From what else could we draw our inspiration and comfort in these terrible days?”

Mrs. Petty sniffed.  “Well, you can’t eat less than you do,” she said; “but you might stop feedin’ Blink out of your rations—­that I do think.”

“I have not found that forbidden as yet in any public utterance,” returned Mr. Lavender; “but when the Earl of Betternot tells us to stop, I shall follow his example, you may depend on that.  The country comes before everything.”  Mrs. Petty tossed her head and murmured darkly—­

“Do you suppose he’s got an example, Sir?”

“Mrs. Petty,” replied Mr. Lavender, “that is quite unworthy of you.  But, tell me, what can we do without?”

“I could do without Joe,” responded Mrs. Petty, “now that you’re not using him as chauffeur.”

“Please be serious.  Joe is an institution; besides, I am thinking of offering myself to the Government as a speaker now that we may use gas.”

“Ah!” said Mrs. Petty.

“I am going down about it to-morrow.”

“Indeed, sir!”

“I feel my energies are not fully employed.”

“No, sir?”

“By the way, there was a wonderful leader on potatoes yesterday.  We must dig up the garden.  Do you know what the subsoil is?”

“Brickbats and dead cats, I expect, sir.”

“Ah!  We shall soon improve that.  Every inch of land reclaimed is a nail in the coffin of our common enemies.”

And going over to a bookcase, Mr. Lavender took out the third from the top of a pile of newspapers.  “Listen!” he said. “’The problem before us is the extraction of every potential ounce of food.  No half measures must content us.  Potatoes!  Potatoes!  No matter how, where, when the prime national necessity is now the growth of potatoes.  All Britons should join in raising a plant which may be our very salvation.