The Washington herald., 1916-06-12

In tiny village in the heart Of Eng
land there Is a quaint old inn. 1t is
called The Brtndled Cow" Nearby Is
a wide and pleasant wood, its messy
carpet starred with flowers. And beside
the inn is the village green. where all
the old men meet together OF an evening
and talk incessantly. There is a duck
pond there. too, and the quacking of
the ducks mingles with the voices Of the
old men.
In this village there are, apparently,
no young men. Nor are there any girls.
Where have they gone to? Let US find
out
Rays Of sunlight lit up the diamond
paned windows OF The Brindled Cow" as
I knocked on its heavy oaken door and
asked to see the landlord. A very an
cient handmade ushered me into the
kitchen Of the inn, and then disappeared.
II was a curious place. Around the fire
we're black oak settles, and the floor
was sanded. Great logs blazed cheer
fully in the CRATE, and drew a strong,
pungent odor from hams that were
swinging from the oaken rafters up
above. 1t was a place Of exceeding
peacefulness and comfort. Fate had
surely been kind to this quiet haven
and war was very far away.
Then the door opened, and the land
lord walked in. He was very old. His
and healthy looking. Yes, he would
gladly accommodate me. But would
mind being in the kitchen. as the sit
ting-room was closed? There were no
other guests in the inn.
He sat down by the fire, and, as
watched him. there was a strange mix
ture Of expressions on his face. 1t was
impossible to decipher them. And then
he spoke.
''YOu're tb{nkin' that yvar ,pa,-ha hasn't
reached this village?' he asked.
I nodded. 1T certainly looks peace
full and happy enough
The old man slowly lit his pipe, and
after putting away for a few moments
spoke again. We keeps our feelins hid
good at speech. but there's them as could
be tellin' tales
There was a long pause. Then: I've
worked in this inn, man and boy, for
nigh on seventy year. same as my father
and grandfather did before me. 'Tis
cruel hard to have to leave II now But
times is bad. and prices high, and what
with people settin' their faces agin holi-
days. and posters everywhere on War
time Economy 'tis been the ruination Of
me. I'm givin' up next week"
The old man gazed into the fire, then
spoke again abruptly: "'Tis not givin'
up in my heart that I am, but always
'Carryin' On as the military calls it.
I'm lOokin' for work in a munition fac
tory. The country needs every man they
can get. I've given my son and grand
son, and now I'm just givin' myseIf-it
they'll take me. kept the old inn goIn
to be handed down to my boy. And
when he fell at Loos, though twas a ter
rible blow, there was his son to think
Of. such a fine handsome lad, and only
seventeen. A rare landlord he'd have
ms Ha - rH~ff hFVy, FHoN soNr
wheedled the birds of the tree. let alone
good customers. But he was killed soon
after his father. Twas the asphyxiatin
gas the Germans pumped agin his regi-
nent as finished him. poor lad"
There was tragedy in the old mans
face. He had lost his only son. and
much-loved grandson. His business was
ruined He was old and worn with work.
At eighty years Of age. he was leaving
he home OF his fathers. and setting out
llone 10 do his bit for his country
I that country would have him. But
here was resignation IN his look and
more than a hint Of high courage. He
vas a hero.
LIose 10 The Brindled Cow" there was
l little lane filed with thatched cottages.
And IN the window of every cottage
here was a printed card. Those cards
explained the absence of the young men.
They set forth a glowing declaration
hat from each house a man had gone to
iSht for his king and country. Some
lines the little windows were just filled
With cards There were five leaning up
against the cracked panes Of one very
Ihabby cottage
And the girls? What of them? They
Eelv nowhere to be seen.
4 sudden gathering in the village
ureet and motor bus curved its thrOb-
,ing way past the inn. Standing on the
title platform at the back was a young
girl in a smart uniform, the very shortest
II short skirts. long. military-looking
boots and epaulets piped with scarlet.
Her cap was worn at a jaunty angle, and
n every line of her trim figure the word
capable was written. Here was one of
.hc village naidens who had responded
% the call. and hurried to NIL the place
Of a sweetheart gore to the war. She
stood as an embodiment Of the New
Order of Things-thIs gallant little con-
iuctorette. who was carrying on" so
faithfully. Her long day was over now,
and she was welcomed into one Of the
little cottages by very proud mother.
But where were the other village mai
dens? I was soon to find out Not very
lar from the inn stood a big green
gate, with the mystic letters 20. H. NJ
s" painted on ton His Majesty's
Service" The gate suddenly opened,
and there stood a beautiful young girl,
dressed as an ordinary groom. skirtIess, /
In mannish coat, riding breeches and
stock tie. Behind her were a dozen
others. arrayed in the same fashion. and
exceedingly busy. Some were giving a
last brush to the glossy coats OF the
horses, and uttering the curious kissing
noises which have been the traditional
accompaniment from time immemorial to