"Francesca," I said, "have you seen it?"
"It? What?"
"The announcement."
"What announcement?"
"I have been gazetted," I said.
"Did it hurt much?" she said. "Or were you able to bear it without a
murmur?"
"It's in _The Times_," I said, "and you shall read it, whether you
like it or not. It's in the place where I'm pointing my finger.
There--do you see it?"
"If you'd only take your finger away I might be able to. Thanks. My
hat! isn't it exciting? 'To be 2nd Lieutenant (tempy.) 1st Battalion,
Blankshire Regiment of Volunteers--' So it's come at last, has it?"
"Yes," I said, "it's come at last. They've recognised us."
"Well," she said, "it was about time, wasn't it? Here you've all been
form-fouring and two deeping and route-marching for two years or so,
and looking highly military in your grey-green uniforms, while the
authorities stood by and persuaded themselves you didn't exist; and at
last somebody comes along--"
"It was Lord FRENCH who came along--"
"Yes," she said, "Lord FRENCH comes along on a fine cold Sunday
morning and says to himself, 'Here are several hundred thousand men
who are panting to make themselves useful. Let's recognise them," and
from that moment you actually begin to exist. And then they bring down
your grey hairs with sorrow into the Gazette, and, instead of being a
Platoon Commander, you become a 2nd Lieutenant."
"'Tempy,'" I said; "don't forget the 'tempy.'"
"I won't," she said. "What does it mean? It sounds very irritable."
"It does," I said; "but as a matter of fact it's got nothing to do
with my temper. It means temporary."
"Anyhow it's a difficult word to pronounce in four syllables. I shall
do it in two."
"No, Francesca, you shall not. As the holder of His Majesty's
Commission I cannot allow you to go about the country saying tempy
when you mean tem-po-ra-ry."
"But why do they put in the word at all?"
"It's the War Office way of announcing that we're not to expect our
new-born joys to last for ever."
"To the end of the War is long enough for most people at the present
rate."
"Do not let us peer too anxiously into the dim and distant future.
Let us be satisfied with such a present as fate has assigned to us in
making me a 2nd Lieutenant temporary, with all the privileges that the
words imply."
"Right," she said. "I'm going to wire to your brother Fred to come and
stay here."
"Do you want him to come and rejoice with us over my new rank?"
"No," she said, "not exactly. I want to see how an elder brother, who
is a 2nd Lieutenant temporary of Volunteers gets on with a younger
brother who is a Colonel permanent in the real Army."
"I do not," I said, "like the word 'real' There's a disagreeable
invidiousness about it, and your mouth, you being what you are, should
be the last to use it."
'You'll have to salute him, you know."
"Yes," I said, "I certainly shall when I'm in uniform."
"And you'll have to call him 'Sir.'"
"Nonsense."
"You will," she said, "or you'll be court-martialled. And when he
comes into a room in which you're sitting, you'll have to jump up and
assume a rigid attitude until he's kind enough to wave his hand. Oh,
it will be a real pleasure to have Fred here now that you've been
thoroughly recognised. If you don't behave to him in a proper military
manner you'll be reported to Lord FRENCH, and then you'll be more
tempy than ever. Now that you're recognised you must do the thing
thoroughly."
"You'll be sorry for this when I'm guarding a railway line night and
day."
"No," she said, "I shan't. I shall keep you going with sandwiches and
thermos-flasks."