"A special constable guilty of misconduct may be suspended from
duty, and, if so suspended, shall forthwith give up his warrant
card, truncheon, armlet, and whistle to the police officer
suspending him."
What tune must he whistle to him?
* * * * *
"Admiral Jellicoe has a reputation for thoroughness in the naval
service, but a story which shows his kindly nature was told to me
to-day (says 'F.' in the 'Citizen'). A defence boom was being
constructed at Sheerness, and the admiral was dissatisfied with it.
He told the officer in command of some defects, and said it was not
so good as the boom at Portsmouth."
We feel sure there must be even better stories about him than this.
* * * * *
"THEY ALSO SERVE."
Jeremy threw away the stump of his after-dinner cigar and began to light
another one.
"Where's the economy of giving up smoking when you've got lots of cigars
in the house?" he asked.
"Oh, Jeremy," said his wife, "who says you ought to?"
"The Vicar. He only smokes one non-throat cigarette a day himself. I
told him he ought to give that up, but he said it was different. I say,
it will want rather a large soldier for that shirt, won't it?" He sat on
the arm of his wife's chair and began to play with the sleeve.
"Jeremy, can't you find something to do?"
"Yes." He went out and returned with his golf clubs, which he began to
polish lovingly. "I think I shall have a round to-morrow. If FRANCIS
DRAKE played bowls when the Spanish Fleet was in sight, I don't see why
Jeremy Smith shouldn't play golf when the German Fleet is out of sight."
"I thought you said you weren't going to till the war was over?"
"I don't see why I shouldn't. Golf keeps us fit, and it is the duty of
every Englishman to be fit just now."
"But you really play golf because you like it."
Jeremy looked up at her in surprise.
"Really," he said, "I don't see why I shouldn't like doing my duty."
"Oh, Jeremy!" sighed his wife. "You know I didn't mean that."
"I know exactly what you meant." He dropped his clubs and began to pace
the room. "You're filled with the idea that the only way a man can serve
his country is by doing something he absolutely detests. That's why you
made me a special constable." He stopped and glared at her. "A special
constable! Me!"
"Darling, it was your own idea entirely."
"You said to yourself, 'There are men who would make excellent special
constables--men with red faces and angry moustaches who take naturally
to ordering other people about, men who instinctively push their way
into the middle of a row when they see one, men with a lust for gore,
great powerful men who have learnt ju-jitsu. But the fact that they'd
all rather like it shows that it can't really be their duty to join;
they wouldn't be making a big enough sacrifice. The men we want are the
quiet, the mild, the inoffensive, the butterflies of life, the men who
would simply loathe being special constables, the men who would be
entirely useless at it'--and, having said this to yourself, you looked
round and you saw _me_."
Mrs. Jeremy smiled and shook her head at her husband, sighed again, and
returned to her work.
"And so now I'm a special constable, and I wear a belt and a truncheon,
and what good do I do? Baby loves it, I admit that; Baby admires me
immensely. When Nurse says, 'If you're not a good girl the special
constable will be after you,' Baby shrieks with delight. But officially,
in the village, I am useless.... Oh but I forgot, I arrested a man this
morning."
"Jeremy, and you never told me!" said Mrs. Jeremy excitedly.
"Well, I wasn't quite sure at the time whether I arrested him or he
arrested me. But in the clearer light of evening I see that it was
really I who was doing the arresting. At any rate it was I who had the
belt and the note-book."
"Was it a German spy?"
"No, it was old Jack, rather drunk. I arrested him for being intoxicated
on a bridge--the one over the brook, you know, by Claytons. He put his
arm round my neck and we started for the Haverley police-station
together. I didn't want to go to the police-station, because it's three
miles off, but Jack insisted.... He had me tight by the neck. I couldn't
even make a note."
"Wasn't he afraid of your truncheon?"
"My darling, one couldn't hit old Jack with a truncheon; he's such a
jolly old boy when he's sober." Jeremy played nervously with his wife's
scissors, and added, "Besides he was doing things with the truncheon
himself."
"What sort of things?"
"Conducting the _Marseillaise_ chiefly--we marched along in time to it."
A smile spread slowly over Jeremy's face as the scene came back to him.
"It must have looked splendid."
"How dared he?" said Mrs. Jeremy indignantly.
"Oh, well, if you make your husband a special constable you must expect
these things. I consoled myself with the thought that I was doing my
duty ... and that there was nobody about. You see, we made a detour and
missed Haverley, and when we were nearly home again he left me. I mean I
released him. You know, I'm not what I call a _good_ special constable.
I did what I could, but there must be more in it than that."
Mrs. Jeremy looked up and blew a kiss to him.
"However," he went on, "I dropped in on him this evening and made him
sign the pledge."
"Well, there you are; you _have_ done some good."
"Yes, but I hadn't got my truncheon on then. I spoke as Jeremy Smith,
Esq." He put a brassey to his shoulder and said, "Bang," and went on, "I
should be no good at all at the front, and Lord KITCHENER would be no
good trying to paint my water-colours, but all the same I scored an
inner last night. The scene at the range when it got about that the
President had scored an inner was one of wild enthusiasm. When the news
is flashed to Berlin it will give the GERMAN EMPEROR pause. Do you know
that the most unpatriotic thing you can do is to make shirts for the
wounded, when there are lots of poor women in the village who'd be only
too glad of the job? Like little Miss Merton. And yet you think to get
out of it by making your husband a special constable."
Mrs. Jeremy put down her work and went over to her husband and knelt by
his chair.
"Do you know," she said, taking his hands in hers, "that there isn't a
man, woman or child in this village who is idle or neglected or
forgotten? That those who wanted to enlist have been encouraged and told
how to, and that those who didn't want to have been shown other ways of
helping? That it's all been done without any fuss or high-falutin or
busy-bodying, and chiefly because of an absurd husband of mine who never
talks seriously about anything, but somehow manages to make everybody
else willing and good-tempered?"
"Is that a fact?" said Jeremy, rather pleased.
"It is. And this absurd husband didn't understand how much he was
helping, and he had an idea that he ought to do something thoroughly
uncomfortable, so he ordered a truncheon and gave up golf and made
himself quite miserable ... and then put it all on to his wife."
"Well, why didn't you stop me?" said Jeremy helplessly.
"I wasn't going to be a drag on you; if you'd volunteered for a
submarine I should have said nothing."
"I should be useless in a submarine," said Jeremy thoughtfully; "I
should only fall over the white mice. But I really thought you
wanted---- Why then," he cried happily, "I might play golf to-morrow,
you think?"
"I wish you would," said Mrs. Jeremy.
Jeremy took up his brassey and addressed an imaginary ball.
"Sir Jeremy Smith playing golf in a crisis," he said. "Subject for
historical picture."