The Washington times., 1931-10-24

fricaseed chicken for the whole
company out Of it. Half and
haf-to one hen add one
horse-that was the recipe.
wasn't it?"
No Coal at All
Willy beams and taps the
stove plate with his hand.
"Cold!" he says, disappointed,
and turns to his mother.
Haven't you any coal, then?"
Frau Homeyer cannot speak
for agitation; she can only
shake her head. Willy reas-
sured her with a wave of the
hand. Never mind, I'll Scrape
up some tomorrow. For the
moment We'll make do with
this old chair here-it's pretty
wobbly, you see, not much
good for anything more really"
Frau Homeyer looks at her
son uncomprehendingly. She
SnatcheS the chair and then
the fowl out of his very hands
and makes off with it to milk
man Bindings.
Willy is righteously indig-
nant. $50, off he goes and
sings no more!" he says sadly.
do you understand that,
ErnSt?"
I understand well enough
that we may not take the chair
though up the line we once
burned a whole piano to make
a dapple-gray horse come ten
der; and that at home here we
must not yield to every invol-
untary twitching of our fingers
though out there everything
eatable was looked on as a gift
from heaven and by no means
problem in morals; perhaps I
can understand that also. But
that a fowl that is already dead
should be taken back to where
the merest recruit knows it can
only cause a lot of unnecessary
trouble-that seems to me just
plain madness.
"If it isn't the custom, then
we must Starve: that seems to
be the way of it. eh?" says
Willy, quite non-plussed. "And
to think we might have been
having fricasSeed chicken in
side half an hour, if only we'd
been on our own with the boys.
And I meant to serve white
sauce with it, tool"
Trouble Ahead
His eye wanders from the
stove to the door and back
again. ''The best thing for us
to do would be to make ous-
selves scarce" I suggest. Looks
to be as if there's trouble brew
ing"
But Frau Homeyer as back
again already. "He isn't at
home" she says out Of breath,
and, all excitement, she is
about to open her mind further
when suddenly she notices that
Willy has put on his things.
Immediately it is all forgotten.
"You aren't going away al
ready?"
Just for a little bit Of a
patrol, Mother" he says, laugh
ing.
She starts to weep. Willy,
rather embarrassed slaps her
lightly on the shoulder. "Iu
be back all right. Well always
be coming back now. A bit too
often, perhaps, shouldn't won
der"
Side by side, our hands in
our pockets, we set off at a
swinging pace down Castle
Street Shouldn't we collect
Ludwig?" I ask.
Willy shakes his head. mo,
let him sleep. That's better for
him"
The town is disturbed. Motor
lorries filled with sailors go
roaring through the streets.
Red flags are flying.
Excitement Is Rife
Bundles Of handbills are be-
ing unloaded and distributed
in front of the Town Hall.
The people snatch them from
the hands of the sailors and
glance through them eagerly.
Their eyes shine. A gust Of
wind swoops down upon the
packages and sends the sheets
whiyling up into the cir like
a flock of pigeons. They catch
in the bare branches Of the
trees and hang there rustling.
Comrades" says an old chap
in a field-gray overcoat, things
will be better now. Comrades"
His lips are trembling.
"Hullo!" Looks as if there's
something doing here" I say.
We set off at the double.
The nearer we approach to the
cathedral square, the denSer
is the throng. The square it.
self is Crammed with people.
A soldier is standing on the
theater steps and making a
speech. The chalky light of a
carbide lamp is flickering on
his face. We cannot under
stand properly what he is say
ing, for the wind sweeps over
the square in spasmodic, long
drawn gusts, each time bring
ing with it a wave of organ
music in which the thin, halt
ing voice almost browns.
A vague, tense excitement is
hanging over the place. The
crowd stands like a wall; al
most all are soldiers, some of
them with their wives. Their