The Crakes Do Their Bit

Press, Volume LXXV, Issue 22823, 23 September 1939, Page 17

The Crakes Do Their Bit

{(O UCH terrible times!” said Miss Crake. She blew her nose, and added more cheerfully: “So good of you to look in.” “There seem tp have been changes here, certainly!” I said. Gone were the neatly-planted hyacinths, the beds of primroses, the budding rose'trees. The entire garWen had been thrown up into a desolation of mounds and ditches, as though by a bull-dozer- Captain Crake was standing on the highest of these moundg, looking north through a telescope. “We’re going to grow potatoes,” said Miss Crake. "For the good of the nation.” “That’s a very excellent plan!” I said.

“So nourishing, such protein content!" Miss Crake said. “Do come m. My nephew, George, is here, and we’re going to have a cup of tea, George won’t drink milk, you know; so odd! Father!” she screamed. “Tea, Father!” Captain Crake gazed north through his telescope, and took no notice. “He’s watching for the little dog next door,” she explained. “Whenever it puts it’s head out of it’s kennel he throws a stone at it, He thinks it’s a periscope."

*• * » “After all, I’m not a very young Woman,” said Miss Crake, as She poured out the tea, “It’s all so difficult for a simple person like me to understand. So much talk on the radio, such a lot in the papers. I feel very sad, Zenobia.” “You mustn’t feel sad,” I said. You must grow potatoes." “Yes,” she said, “Yes, indeed, Now I have had the garden dug up I feel much better. I called in the men who were widening the road, I used to give them cups of tea, you know, I went out and tojd the foreman we were going to grow potatoes for the nation, and asked if they could bring in that machine thing that scoops up the ground. So he did, and they ran the garden over; So obliging!” “Yes,” I said. “Not a flower standing.” “There’s a lot of good will in the world,” said Miss Crake. “Such a lot of good will! Tea, George dear?” George sat beside us, deep in silent thought. He stirred hjs tea judiciously. “My nephew is thinking of going into the Intelligence,” Miss Crake said.

. George raised his eyebrows and threw 4'jdance at the door. “Shouldn't I have mentioned it? Dear, oh dear!” said Miss Crake. “I’m afraid I’ve been most indiscreet!"

“No, no —never mind,” said George. He rose and closed the door. He also shot a keen glance through the window. “We have to be so careful about Official Secrets in these days!” said Miss- Crake, “But you aren’t actually in the Intelligence yet, are you, George?” “No, no,” said George. “Not actually.” “So interesting!” said Miss Crake. George showed .Father and me a mpgt interesting thing! I suppose that really is no reason why you shouldn't show it tp Zenobia, George?” . “I,don't know to what you’re re* xerring,” said George, a trifle represSlyejy, • “We have to be discreet, I know, But I think you might show Zenooia—it’s such a remarkable thing! Hitler and Chamberlain—you know, George!” i “Ah!” said George. “That!” . “Yes,” said Miss Crake. “So in-i-resting!”

(apECULI/r WRITTEN PQE THE PRESS.) [By ZENOBIA.]

“It is,” George agreed. “Very! Perhaps you've heard of an acrostic that has be'eome quite famous lately?” he risked me. “You write in capitals (placing the letters one below the other); MUSSOLINI, HITLER, ghAmeerlain, DALADIER, WHICH WILL WIN?" “Yes,” I said. “I know that one. You draw a line downwards through the first s in Mussolini and get the name ’Stalin’.” “Just so’,” said George. “But here’s another I’ve discovered myself.” Frowning, he took a pencil and note-pad, and sat down beside me. He wrote on the paper in a slow, deliberate hand: BRITAIN RO MB B EtOI U M US.S. R. EIRE A IA ERICA , pOt AND WHO t t BEAT G 6RMANV? George gave me time to gaze on it carefully, “Weil?” I said, puzzled. “Who will beat Germany?” With a smile of considerable self* importance, George drew two lines through the words, thus:

“Bob Semple, you see!” cried Miss Crake, “It comes out Bob Semple! So interesting!” “Yes,” I said. “Very interesting,” “Quite extraordinary!” said Miss Crake.

“There may be something in it,” said George, frowning, “You must admit that it’s a very odd thing!” “Very, very odd,” I agreed. Miss Crake took the sheet of paper and placed it carefully on the fire. “So interesting—the Intelligence!” she said a few minutes later, as she showed me out. “Though George is not actually in the Intelligence yet, of course." “No," I said. “I realise that.” There was a sudden scuffle and a commotion of barking and shouting as we went down the path. Captain Crake had abandoned the sum* mit of his mound to patrol the outposts of the garden. The little dog next door had put its head under the fence and bad bitten him in the ankle, “Such difficult times!" said Miss Crake, when she finally showed me out of the gate. “So difficult to understand!”